Now that I think about it, there is a song that I remember exceptionally well, and I don't want to grow up.
They sang about not wanting to grow up in the past, and we who have grown up are addicted to the past and do not want to escape.
Today, my mother drove by Café de Coral. Since I moved home and stopped attending classes, I haven't been here in years, and I've been reunited for many years, but it hasn't been the same for a long time.
I remember what Einstein once said, in the three-dimensional world we live in, there is a dimension of time. Time keeps flowing forward, like an arrow escaping from the hand, never looking back.
I also remembered the idea mentioned in a book that in fact, under the framework of four dimensions, everyone is just a long worm. As time passes, as people move spatially, the worm gets longer and longer.
I think I've probably been in this place for almost ten years, and the worm that symbolizes me is starting to get fat and fat. It probably never thought that one day it would leave this place or that one day everything would change.
I remember walking into that building countless times with my tiny backpack. The entrance to the dance building had a green sticker and white letters, Ten years of trees, a hundred years of trees. On the first floor were four tables and chairs, and I had left my mark on every table and every chair, studying there, reading there, eating there.
To the left of the door is a long staircase connected to the second floor, and after walking up a few stairs you will see a huge mirror. I had passed this mirror countless times, with my hair tied up high and coiled, and a pair of stupid glasses.
I remember growing taller and fatter just a little bit at a time, pressing my hips and legs daily at the dance studio. I remember when I was a kid, I was so resilient that I could press straight to the bottom without much effort. One summer, I spent a whole vacation, and when I came back from school, I was still the softest one in the class when Mr. Tang tested me.
At that time, I didn't understand why some people would cry out when pressing their crotch, and at that time, I was even a little bit addicted to the feeling of pressing my crotch. I'm not sure if I've ever had a problem with that, but I'm sure I've never had a problem with it, and I'm not sure if I've ever had a problem with it, and I'm not sure if I've ever had a problem with it. The mother used a little bit of force, I will be so painful that tears came out.
I still remember those days, the sunlight leaked from the window, and I was lying on the wooden planks, pressing my legs and reading. The air was filled with the smell of peace, all was quiet, time seemed to stand still.
Somehow the popularity of this kind of activity began to spread on the microblogging circle of friends, and everyone sent a circle of friends one by one, and then one by one, and then one by one.
Some people's memories can't be remembered, just like you against the light, smiling brightly at me. I can't see what you look like, but I know you are happy.
Some people's memories are still fresh in my mind, and the past is like a tidal wave that laps at the shore.
I would like to think that I have not grown up, still hiding in that warm house pressed across the reading, all people have not been separated, all people are still together. We all went to school together and left school together, and would cheer when the bell rang.
It's not the separation I'm afraid of, it's the reunion afterward, a friend once told me.
Yes, I'm afraid that the past is gone, and I'm afraid that everything is just a dream I had, because I have no way to prove that I'm not just a bunch of cells living in a nutrient solution.
After growing up, I learned that Doraemon once had an ending that was heartbreaking to read. Nobita suddenly woke up one day, in front of a robot that looks like Doraemon, he smiled at it and shouted his name, but it was not Doraemon. The robot tells Nobita that all of it is nothing but an illusion, a way for them to enjoy their childhood specially designed for small children with intellectual disabilities, and now that he is no longer a child, society has decided to get rid of this waste.
After hearing this, Nobita asked the robot if he could go back to that world one more time and say goodbye to everyone.
The robot nodded, so Nobita closed his eyes.
Nobita spent all his allowance and bought a new dress for his mom, a golf club for his dad, lots and lots of gongfu for Doraemon, dolls for Shizuka, baseball clubs for Tubby Tiger, and remote control airplanes for Kovu.
At dinner time mom smiled and said, today Nobita so so understanding.
Nobita had his last meal with everyone and then Nobita woke up.
The robot stretched out his round hand and touched Nobita, and the high-intensity current zipped.
I suddenly remembered so many afternoons when Nobita ran home crying and ran to Doraemon complaining that Fat Tiger and Kovu were bullying him again. When he was busy, his mom came to tell Nobita to go out to buy groceries again, and when he was late in the morning, the teacher told Nobita to go out and stand in the penalty box.
I wonder if Nobita will miss those boring and troublesome days before he dies.
And would it be, with so much expectation.
If you don't grow up, you can keep indulging in this dream.