I thought I was used to life and death, but apparently NOT

I remember lu Xun didn't want to write anything after Liu Hezhen was killed. You can read this passage in The Memorial to Lord Liu Hezhen. But a righteous man asked why Sir Did not write, should write something. So the master wrote it.

In fact, judging from the whole story, we can clearly conclude that Mr. Lu Xun was eager to write, but he did not begin to write until a righteous man mentioned the matter.

12 years ago, jay, my best friend in junior high school, who wore a pair of pants, died. He was so shocked and sad that he couldn't help himself, but he didn't think to write anything.

In the summer of 2008 Beijing Olympic Games, I happily watched the wonderful Games. Yan, who was the class monitor in high school and also my college classmate, was tortured in a famous hospital in Beijing. Five months later, she passed away.

This news, I don't know.

Until the Spring Festival of 2010, I sent New Year's greetings to my high school classmates as usual. Fifty-three. I collected fifty-two, except for the missing student yan. I saw the wechat group, she did not speak. So the group asked, "Send New Year's greetings to the committee, but also ignore me."

The crowd was silent and silent. However, several students wrote to me that the committee had been dead for more than a year.

I remember that, out of nowhere, tears burst into my eyes.

That year's Spring Festival became the saddest and saddest ever.

In my memory, the school committee or seriously fresh to the county high school students on the class, but I do not know, she has been in the underground long sleep for a year and a half.

I thought I was used to life and death, but apparently NOT.

Since 2010, the great wings of death have taken away too many relatives and friends.

Can often hear, experience, are first a huge regret, and then extreme silence.

Jin Bo is my former colleague and deputy editor of Tianya Community. On June 29, I worked overtime until nearly 22 o 'clock before I got home.

He was changing his clothes while chatting with his wife and baby.

All of a sudden, a group of colleagues, "friends who have left Tianya Community", burst into flames. They all talked about a rumor in disbelief: Jin Bo died of a sudden illness on a platform of Beijing Metro Line 6 at around 7pm.

After a brief period of disbelief, the news was confirmed by colleagues who travelled to the hospital to see them.

There was great regret, and then great silence.

The next day, after I forwarded tianya's memorial article on Weibo, I was constantly asked by netizens, "Leng Feng, don't you plan to write something?"

Having never been sad to write, I could not think of what I wanted to write.

Perhaps, I owe too much, to the dead, but also to the living.

12 years ago, the brother who died, until this year, I did not write an article "Memory of a friendship brother", and I passed away in 2008, so far I have not written.

As if I was using myself to confirm a fact: hearsay, and even make things up, very handy; On the contrary, the people and things closest to me do not know how to write. As if to write them even a paragraph, a word, like in his heart, very painful very painful, pain to the subconscious do not go to section, do not write.

I have also written some short chapters for my two dead uncles, uncles and mothers, as well as for my close relatives who are still alive, but I always feel unsatisfactory, just like a person who has excellent martial arts, but can only put them to good use.

Writing this road, I am to continue to go on, MY debt is too much, my ideal is too full. But I also know that I thought I was used to life and death, but I'm not.

Life and life, always ready for the unknown people and things, not far ahead, waiting for me.

Life, here I come.