When I was sorting out the trash, I accidentally saw this yellowed diary. I opened it and read it with interest. Unknowingly, I was in front of the messy items all morning, reading this book that I had never opened or read in decades, and the true feelings written in my youth. Now that I think about it, I find it ridiculous and cute. Yes, most of the young people in that era were full of passion and had the lofty ambition to fight for communism. They took "not afraid of hardship and not afraid of death" as their motto in life. Their selfish thoughts only passed by briefly, and what was immersed in their minds was the lofty spiritual realm of listening to Chairman Mao and following the party.
I recall that when I wrote the diary, it was an innocent narrative. The diary was for myself, and there was no need for gorgeous speeches. Those words of "devoting everything to the cause of the proletariat and striving for the realization of communism throughout my life" really came from my heart at that time.