Here are some immature words from my essays from elementary school to junior high school.
I was cleaning up my bookshelf some time ago and found a few old diaries. When I opened it and read it, the memory was like water, rushing through my heart. There are some crooked words in it, but you can see that I was trying to write it down one stroke at a time. I seemed to see my little self, huddled in the bed with a flashlight, secretly writing an article.
The contents are all kinds of strange, including fairy tales, prose, and some essays of no particular genre. Most of them have the meaning of compiling new words and expressing sorrow. But as I looked at it, I couldn't help but marvel at my unbridled imagination as a child, and my sensitivity to marvel at every inconspicuous thing around me.
But now, I am drowning in a sea of questions and bowed down by the heavy workload. Before I knew it, I had no time to think about anything, let alone make up stories about princes and princesses. I walk through a flower field and will never stop to pick a flower or chase a butterfly. I struggled to meet the standards of adults, but I unconsciously lost the most precious ability, which every child is born with.
Therefore, I want to leave a commemoration here and record some articles here, which can be regarded as a piece of memory that belongs exclusively to me.
So, if you accidentally clicked in and are not interested, please click on the upper left corner to exit~ (After all, the writing is really poor, I still want to save face)
PS: Because this is the first work after registration, it seems that it cannot be locked...
Concept: In memories, there are always some moments that can warm the entire past.