Breaking cocoon into butterfly freedom, cocooning, hibernating, breaking cocoon, butterfly, flying in the sun, flapping the alternation of light and shadow. Memory, always painful, suffocating, because it calls no longer have. As the first rays of the morning sun poured in, I blinked and cleared my eyes. Riding, looking out of the window of the strange school, can not help but feel a little wistful. Elementary school for junior high school some approximate fanatical fantasy, but after graduation, disappear from the eyes of a familiar face, is how to pull my heartstrings. Memory if floating colorful foam, so beautiful, hand touch, but if light and shadow burst, when sitting in a strange classroom, looking at a series of indifferent faces, eyes only sad flow, a series of strange scenes constantly called to show that I no longer have, At the beginning of the semester, I flinched and cowardice, which led to my good performance in the math exam. The teacher was very angry and I was very helpless. Whenever the teacher with a stack of papers, with the attack volume of anger, waves of abuse against me, cheap in the ear. Every now and then, my eyes would appear as if there was an ethereal world, a root of blue silk wrapped me, look up, the sky is full of gray, make me breathless, blue silk woven all over my field of vision, I will net, although full of darkness, depression. But isolated from all the irritability of the outside world, I am confined to the narrow world that belongs to me, and I savor the sweet memories of the past, only to wake up again and again in my dream to find only loneliness around me. Memory, always sweet, happy, because it is called to possess. Gradually, when a breeze in a position to light the gray of my cocoon, the sun through the leaves, sprinkled on the body, warm, bright, as if golden. I want to lie in the clouds to relax, to listen to the flowers bloom and fall, to touch the tides. I began to struggle, trying to break free of this blue shackles, trying to see the outside world a touch of color.Finally, I broke a small piece, greedily sucking every breath of fresh air, I quietly out of the eye, see outside butterfly dance in groups, the sun through the wings, is crystal clear, cast on the ground, is gorgeous patterns. But elsewhere, there are people at the end of their lives who remain cocooned. The wind does not want to be close to it, and is covered with dust. I decided to struggle to the butterfly group, the struggle of leisure is outside the cocoon flying butterfly groups. Every time, looking at, do not move, the wind hard to piece together the sun through the leaves sprinkled with mottled leaves, leaves with light, clear veins, little light in the transport, looked at for a long time, as if to see, the air walk cells, molecules, bustling, embrace a place. Close your eyes, with the residual in the eyes of the sun, broken down into colorful lines, with my heart, interwoven, twisted, bent, joint, formed a flying blueprint. After graduating from junior high school, when the faces of my classmates disappeared, my heart was warm, because I had. With my warmth, I quickly adapted to the high school life, boldly communicate with classmates, not afraid to meet the greater wind and rain. The cracks have grown, the gaps have widened, and I will continue to struggle. Work harder to break this thick cocoon and dance in the big world. I hope that I can carry the sun, the alternations of light and shadow, the fusion of flowers and breeze, the intersection of music and color, slow flight, toward the heart of the rose.