Monthly Roses

Goodbye, my university! Goodbye, my beloved! Goodbye, my youth!

Sometimes youth is like a headless fly, blundering around in confusion. Sometimes it is loud and lively; sometimes it exits in desolate silence. It is also like a grand, bloody war, except there are no horns or drummers. The protagonists are all our younger selves, either fighting until we are covered in wounds or suffering a crushing defeat. In the past, our sweat and tears mingled, our revelry went hand in hand with disappointment, and in the end it all became the most indelible memories of our youth, scattered across the ground like fragments. At graduation, the principal said, “Youth is for striving.” But the cruel reality has already made us lose our ideals. As the years slip by, we spend our youth lost, hesitant, adrift, and wasting away. A few of us still have the will to fight, but even they struggle helplessly.

These are the true stories of some young people today. No matter how twisted and bizarre, how absurd and laughable, or even how tragic they may be, they are the truest portraits of youth, glowing with all its brilliance!

How could a dusty old song express our youth, which we have no regrets about? Those years are buried in time: a memorial album that can never be opened again, pale pages where tears and laughter have been frozen forever, washed away by time and carried off by the passing years.

I use my heaviest words to mourn the youth that has slipped away. I pour wine with fervent blood, burn incense over ink and paper, and weep bitterly. After kneeling and bowing again and again, I will never look back.