In the days of struggle, there are always some stories happening.
It is said that there is a fat man in every story, but there is no fat man in my story, only a thin man.
He was once the person I silently liked lying in the corridor, and he was once the top student in all the bloody stories.
I am a confused person who calls myself a passionate young man. I am a funny person who wants to cry when I look at the math scores on my report card.
It has nothing to do with love, but it cannot be separated from love.
In that period of ignorance, even I couldn't understand things.
As young people, we are also confused. Everyone wants to leave their name in the long river of history. The names painted on the desks and walls are our confusion.
Youth, the word is too harsh, what is youth? What is youth?
It's "The Days on Beijing East Road" you sing while looking at the blue sky, it's "Blooming Life" you sing with your head down, it's me standing behind you and pacing silently...
I didn't think about asking for anything, I just wanted to reminisce about the past, how can human memory be forgotten, and commemorate my youth that never had earth-shattering moments.
I have asked myself many times, if I could go back in time, if I was never afraid, what would my youth be like? ...