The most beautiful years are the youthful times, the times when you would blush if you held hands. Do you recall that time? Here is what I have organized for you about, I hope it is useful to you!
About 1: The love that died in the youthful time
Author: Yuyue
A few years ago I found her, a few years later she retrieved me, but we went round and round, and I couldn't love you how.
She is a very handsome girl in my mind, the first eye so, since then has been so, others are in the taste of her looks, and I only care about her temperament, very few girls can really get into my eyes, however, that girl at first glance on the handsome cry me, and then I fell in love with her, I think, even if like the gray wolf, like a lifetime of her pans, I love her, I love her, but those are my thoughts. Just those are just my thoughts, she ultimately do not see me.
What do we know about love at 14 or 15? Maybe it's just cute. But I think she may have to be in my heart for the rest of my life, after all, can not get is always the best. I have never had, but the luxury of incense thought a lot of us together, sometimes in the dream to dream that I do not want to wake up, wake up and then lose their voices. Then bewildered, bumbling day, week after week, bitter.
Some people may feel that I am exaggerating a bit, but you may want to try late at night, think about your own youthful years in that make their own nostalgic boys and girls, perhaps you will also generalize, if the time to go back to the past, in fact, I think it is also just to start from scratch. If you can be together, then please accompany to the end.
Love her which can let go? But you don't love me.
About 2:This youthful age
Written by: such as the wind years
This youthful age, when to come to a confession, angsty and tall, indeed, like an accident.
This youthful age, can't see the rice and cabbage, the new wave rolls on, fashion bye-bye.
This youthful age, can not understand others' dialog, only preferences, no patience.
This youthful era, can not find the greatness of the place, enjoyment is not enough, the degeneration has become a natural disaster.
These are the days when dreams become blank, when there is a huge collection of great blueprints, and when there is no footsteps of struggle.
This is the era of youth, everything seems to be very fast, stopping the footsteps, actually keep up with the future.
This youthful era, the world where all, open the computer like never leave, and turn off the computer, like the world did not come.
This is the age when the internet becomes real, when information crosses platforms, and when being lost becomes adorable.
This is the age of youth, where the strange is new, maturity is meaningless, and money is the status.
This youthful era, the surface becomes the main theme, the inner seems to be absent, there is no charge of the horn, only the worship of hard work.
This youthful era, should be rich in the future, but was replaced by the garage, originally young face, but there is a worldly old.
This youthful era, and what favorite, can make a brilliant stage, become the expectations of all.
This youthful era, whether the self is still there, too many Jinshan color sea, desire can become the dust of reason.
This youthful era, to get rid of the endless sea of people, whether only blank, support, whether there is still faith, that remnant of the will, can you still make you straighten up?
The youthful era, whether this and their own bye-bye, with the tender, dragging the old, heavy pace, but also with a brisk melody to cover. Vigorous vigor, but in the illusion of bye-bye.
This youthful era, perhaps should not, only with the reality to carry.
About 3: The most beautiful time, the most beautiful years
Author: Broken-hearted prodigal son
Rush that year, you and I rush, memories are still
Prosperity falls out of the three thousand colors, the clear wind by the water smoke in the wave
One person's street, one person's old alley. The source is a deep longing, clear bottom of the sadness. Wandering footsteps finally returned to the voyage, and said floating life is unusual, waiting for a spring late not, in love with the pear flower stamen in the cool.
Not grooming, waste of youth. We have this life of youth ***, sadness, ups and downs and so on, but can only see and yet wasted youth. Remember that is the memory of high school ---- green walls, each layer of upstairs laughter, playground sports, and is the classroom of you and me, classmates. Recall the initial ignorant teenagers but do not know the focus of life in this dozens of square meters large classroom.
School building style
School building on your; casual high school dress, reckless gossip, the next class in the door railing of the scene into the campus of the most youthful memories. Those years of daily repetition of classes, eating, sleeping, has become a stereotype. At that time your seat near the window, the only thing you never slept in class, only occasionally in the classroom to sleep for 5 minutes, your face, your messy hair in the sunlight - shining *** because your hair is a little bit yellow ***, especially on the English class, the language class is always so positive, remember said. "If you hadn't heard that there was basically no one in the class, you would have had to give face to the teacher". I remember you always like to drink water, always so fixed, but also like to chat with other men and women, generally said to be a "good man", but I have only "casual" to you. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get a good deal on this, but I'm sure you'll be able to.
After class, you are always so proud, in a corner or on their own seat watching students interpret the so-called jokes, sometimes laughing, sometimes silent. A description of you: classy, gutsy, and selective.
Teaching building buddies: flirting, chatting with their favorite girls, and the toilet always look for a companion, remember that time the school often play Song Xu's songs, we still sing from time to time, the second period of the next class break time when you end with a bench, he took the book, sitting at the green railing, talking and laughing. Boys always like to chat with girls, chasing around, can be proud. Waiting for *** a sound, everyone with reluctance to class, class and pass notes, basically sometimes can pass half the classroom ......
Rush that year, rush to go, life is short, long time light brushes the shoulders, empty left a long sigh. Those of our youthful memories, carved in the wheel of the year. "Once" is only "past", "past" a class of words only. Over the footprints, light can not be light, such as hairs over the ear, rubbing the cheeks remain some pain, life helplessly in the ancient vine, leaving traces of crumpled folds, marking the years of spot, a circle of the wheel of the year, like a carver's record, clear some piercing, that year's wheel crushed, the vicissitudes of life into a death!
The figure on the playground
You on the playground: running, jumping, laughing, and even choose sports specialties are not the same as others - basketball. You always like to grab the basketball with the boys, and some boys will get the ball and give you the basketball, you are smiling and put the basketball in, and have to say another one. And you would always bully the boys with your long legs which you had an advantage, but one thing you were most afraid of was - the basketball hitting yourself, every time the basketball came, you first bent over, held your head, crouched down, the basketball didn't hit you, but your voice was shaking the whole playground. I remember once a boy and I ate in the cafeteria heard a scream, I ah very plainly said "no need to guess, that's her 'you guess I guessed right? I also remember a badminton game, a few boys took turns to play, were you playing all lost, guess how to lose, "one-handed ball, one hand in the pocket, very elegant, but the ball is very fierce, very high, you always say height or gap ah," some boys are not convinced that your feet ... ... ...*** At this point so embarrassing ah ***
Playground buddies: flexible, turn, sweat, laughter, basketball is beyond reproach. I'm not often play basketball, since jumping classes to play less. Remember before, will dribble is not too much, most of them are fixed-point shooting. The feeling of being sound on the basketball court is kind of the best for boys, taking off their clothes and putting them on the ground. After class, you buy a glass of mineral water or ice cream, and then flirt with the girls back to the classroom and repeat the lesson.
Past Smoke and Willow, today's flowers embrace the warmth of incense
Fall silent time, desolate micro-words drifting away from that side, pick up the words hanging all over the vine branches branches, entangled not to go to the heart of the song, even if the old play, will still be singing the love song of the green astringent, do not say anything, self-circumference self-painting the shoulders of the once, the loss of the years of ...... Quietly a person, a side of the sky, a pot of moon, flowers do not speak, pouring years of tea, taste that green slipped under a leaf, a frame written with the growth of the paper page, the past in the willow smoke gently, flowers embracing the warm fragrance of the complex.
Whoever draws Qiong Bi with a wonderful hand, the sky is clear and a thought cloud. The first thing you need to do is to listen to the wind, and then you will be trapped in the red dust. When a person quietly look at the sky, the blue sky, all the high school laughter, sing songs together, together chased the girl. The shadow under the moonlight is cold and thin. There was no heart in that moment, only a dull gaze, gaze into the memories of that youthful time. That small mind like a spring, like a star falling into the sea. Spot ripples dissolve in the clear darkness, gorgeous fall in the invisible, the end of no ....... Think about this period of time, although passed away, but look back at the past turned out to have such good memories.
Youthful years, belongs to you and me, belongs to us at that time, some people, walking around on the loose; some things, said on the fade. In this youthful path, will always miss many people or things, as long as you believe in memory, believe in the previous things, believe in the previous youth, I am willing to take you to remember, remember those good, not good .......
Life, how much prosperity glazed fixed in the years? How many rivers and mountains like a picture waiting for the green mountain is not old? How many love affair witnessed the sea withered, the end of the world? Flowers blossom and fall, the fate of the gathering and dispersal of fate, the clouds rolled up, a sleeve of wind to go, thousands of mountains are clouds and smoke. A leaf fall thin end, silent, only the remaining dead wood scattered branches, only the existence of gathering and parting of a piece of paper, it turned out that we came to this world for a while, bare *** naked to come, alone to go, who has left a piece of eternal clouds? The only thing left is the memories on the wheel of the year.
Remembering the time is love
When recalling the time, it has been vicissitudes of years. Some people say that "an unrepentant memory is the love that God gave to the past", indeed. Who does not want to remember or dare to remember, sometimes we just let our heart control, they can not do the main.
When you remember then once, will it be like me? Laughing and shedding tears.
When you remember then once, will it be calm in your heart?
When you remember that time, will you be as helpless as I was?
When you remember the past, do you feel happy?
When you recall ...... the thoughts or nostalgia that already existed in your heart, it was like a flood bursting through the dike.
Then give yourself a few minutes, close your eyes, *** standing on the school building holding the green railing, the people around you, the songs around you, that chasing and playing around, a smiling face, the garden, the view from the experimental building, the cafeteria of the second middle school, and the small supermarket next to the cafeteria, and the books on your own table, and a funny person - -Frequently asked to go to the toilet ......***