Youth scattered all over the ground --- dedicated to those who graduate [Reprinted

manyi

Youth scattered all over the ground --- dedicated to those who graduate [Reprinted [Copy link]

It takes some effort to walk out of some yellow and dry memories. No one mentions the holes in the pair of sneakers thrown at the foot of the bed anymore. I have walked many roads wearing them.

　　　　If the gaps opened by the holes in the pair of shoes record and tell a period of time, then the time of leaning on the bed in the afternoon, watching others play PC-GAME, has also dimmed, and the time of grinding away with the creaking sound of the D-version disc in the optical drive, and the blurred figures emit distant sounds from the inferior speakers.

　　　　Everything seems to be related to you and seems to have nothing to do with you.

　　　　And youth is frozen at this moment, branded, and a bright red certificate seals a period of time. Four years of fresh and vivid time in one place, finally completed into a line of text: ×××, a graduate of ×× Department of ×× University, has passed the assessment after × years of study, and is hereby issued this certificate. There are several seals at the end of the signature.

　　　　You can come back and stay here, but your identity will no longer be in the ing state. After graduation, youth is over. Youth belongs to the lush campus and the days of walking here.

　　　　Reality is not perfect, but it is not terrible.

　　　　Just like those DVDs, VCDs, and CDs scattered on the ground, they contain stories and melodies, which are some essences or mediocre memories. They cannot stand, but can only drift in the depths of your and my memories. And we are destined not to take the past with us on the road. We who travel far away like the wind will always be in the future, taking root, sprouting, blooming and bearing fruit, with or without news from each other.

　　　　Has the person you loved gone far away? Are you still in touch? Will you open a long-standing yellowed diary at night, smile indifferently or sigh deeply? Is the moment worth remembering for you treasured by you, or shining in the dim days until forever, or gently wiped away with your present smile.

　　　　I once thought that the past was monotonous and without bright colors, and yearned for a more tempting and more distant world, eager for the opportunity to prove myself, but when I really left, why did I burst into tears at the moment of leaving?

　　　　Everything around us is like a tide, and we are isolated like an island. We have all been so confused, just like that night when I tossed and turned while thinking and reading.

　　　　Youth will never come back. The love story that was soaked up by the 5-yuan video was once boiling. I walked back and forth on the tree-lined path of the small playground. For whom did I grow my hair long, for whom did I play the guitar, for whom did I laugh to my heart's content during the day, for whom did I write at night?

　　　　This real past quietly swayed the days, and this real past let everything pass.

　　　　In which corner did the scattered youth stories take root and sprout?