The dream of woke up is a dream

All the prosperity has fallen out, the strong father has died for many years, those so-called love warm and cold is just a flash in the pan, illusionary dream like, the dream woke up is just a dream.

The poor house is gone, in a decrepit, gray house, but how can not sleep? It was more than two in the morning, my mother came to clean up my bed, I was furious and tried to stop her, after a while, I turned my head to see, my mother was lying in bed asleep.

With her usual majestic and kind expression, I pressed my mother's bare calves, thin like hollowed-out cotton. A heck of a lot of suffering, a heck of a lot of tiredness, a heck of a lot of heartbreak. There was a time when I had died, and the remaining shell was just accompanying my pale old mother, giving her a final ride.

I hugged my mother's calves and cried out in pain, it was these legs as a child back from school to hug for warmth until they entered dreamland. The smell of picking up garbage in the hot summer filled the air, I ignored all this and thought about when my little sister just learned to walk, it was the happiest and happiest time for our family. My mother was young, my father was out doing manual labor to support the family, and the disease lurking in my body had just sprouted, but it hadn't stormed my body and spirit.

My little sister learned to speak with a delicate voice, like a newly hatched fluffy chick. I was careful to protect her but fell off the swing from someone else's house, I was aggrieved to hold her hand home, I could not let my little sister be hurt.

My son, you cry what! Mother opened her eyes with difficulty and said don't cry, go to sleep! I insisted that my mother sleeps in my big bed, I went to the north wall of the board bed where my mother slept, and small and narrow turning are difficult.

The bleak wind blew in through the cracks of the north wall, and I turned my head to see my mother asleep. Outside the window came the call of a crow, which made my heart shiver.

I have never regretted this life, I feel that every day live a happy, worthy life, look down on the warmth of human feelings, read the world, my father died in vain. He wanted me to do all I did not do, I could not bear to tell him the harsh reality, let him in my carefully prepared lies quietly spend the remaining years. Maybe he already understood everything and just felt like giving me hope.

I am ashamed of my parents, all they gave me faded away in my world, all of it. Sometimes I want to ask God if I can interpret my life backward so that my parents are not in such pain.

I am a lie wrapped up in layers and layers, and I used to put others in harm's way for the life I wanted. I don't hate everything that leaves me, it's like planting the bitter fruit and eventually having to bear it alone in loneliness.

I kneeled in front of my parents' grave for a long time without words, and that's how it ended. I hate them, repeatedly told them I do not like men, I also do not like women, but they finally think I want to become a monk is a joke.

The most important thing is that you have to be able to get a good idea of what you want to do. In this life, there is no one anything left in the initial heart, the initial feelings, perhaps my heart is originally empty, now go is also not a trace.

Now I am dressed in rags, most of the floating life past, but in exchange for a piece of barren grass in front of my parents' grave. I couldn't stop kowtowing to my parents' graves, and then got up, the days ahead, the bamboo stick and mango shoes are lighter than horses, who are afraid, of rain of smoke and rain any life!