Yesterday always belongs to the past. Regardless of success or failure, the past always belongs to death. Yesterday is like a falling meteor across the sky, with no time to greet you. Yesterday is like a dandelion flying all over the sky, showing its swagger. Life is just a series of isolated moments in which meaning emerges, disappears, and reappears through memories and fantasies. The hourglass of time flows quietly bit by bit, and the traces of time are described in detail, stroke by stroke. And beautiful memories often bring me a lot of warmth and touch.
After all, we are just passing by, passing by your beauty, passing by his indifference, passing by other people's cities and skies, leaving a mark in everyone's eyes, and that mark will eventually be worn away by the years. But it's great that you are gone, otherwise I would always be worried that you would leave. Memories are the beauty of life. They symbolize the sweet streams in the life that are gone in a hurry, the quietness of always sleeping soundly, and the secrets in the heart; but at the same time, they are also the moments of angels and devils, the eyes of sea blue and darkness, and the faces that can be seen clearly when the light disappears. There was a time when we were smiling like flowers together.
There was a time when we shed tears for a person. Those laughter and tears often appear in my memories. But I can't remember when we started to smile without words. I don't know when we started to become the most familiar strangers. I often miss those happy days, and then burst into tears. Those innocent days of youth are fading away, and you can see yourself with the back getting longer and longer. That is the time and mood that are far away.
I closed the box of memory, and it was like a dream, sliding past me. This dream was really too long, but it was my personal experience that I can never forget. Tears blurred my vision, and I could only recall your outline in my mind. Time has slowly come to this day, and when I look back, I can see how things have changed. Looking at the sky quietly, recalling every bit of the past, I found that perfection has gradually aged. The sun dances on my fingertips, just like your smile, my memory. We smile and say that we are staying at the same place in time, but in fact we have been silently swept away by the torrent.
Purpose: Inspiring stories