Don't let the weakness deny yourself, don't let the fatigue of youth.

The light of time darkened its color in the cool afternoon, and its dense white.

Lonely Chinese clothes, in the dark blue night more highlights its gorgeous brilliance, like a coquettish woman that evil smile.

In the thought of leisure, a person our loneliness, in the unredeemable loneliness alone squandered the remaining youth.

Is this world too complex, or my heart is too fragile?

In the calm silence, in the unrestrained laughter, or even in the uncontrollable cry, there is always a cloud in my heart that cannot be wiped away -- it is the confusion of life.

There is no denying that what I yearn for in my heart is a life of peace from worldly affairs. Even in this social environment where there is no material backing and everything is luxury, I have been trying my best to keep my heart clean.

Yes, for so many years, I have been arbitrarily living in the world created by my own feelings, everything is beautiful, but everything is illusory. No matter how many imaginary lovers, than not in real life a friend's embrace more let oneself feel that warm comfort. It's true.

However, the confusion of life that I face is also real.

I always pour all my love and hope into a person or thing that I think is beautiful. My friend had warned me many times that it was dangerous. However, I enjoyed the adventure. Again and again, after vain love and vain hope, I went to the other extreme. I was indifferent to everything and did not care about the "needs" of life.

The sunrise awakens the morning, but my world is not truly glorious rebirth, freedom has been imprisoned for so many years in an invisible cage, only to find the resurrection of the soul

It's not really that easy. Accustomed to the cage under the circle of others, accustomed to the blind hysterical struggle, accustomed to the silence of the lambs like compromise. Soul, as if drink indifferent poison wine, hopeless.

In my thought that hope is luxury, the so-called ideal is dispensable. Unexamined, the days are so silently flowing away. My heart, still under the river of life, has been addicted, addicted.

I can't see the light of dawn, I can't hold the torch of hope, I don't cry for help, also don't struggle to save themselves, I just so decadent, just so destruction, just so depraved. At least, that's what my heart says.

A few days ago on ice class, and Qiuju learn to skate together, but fell on the ice together. It didn't hurt very much, but when I got up, I couldn't help crying and tearing up. In this cry, I think of the first time in junior high school collective running fell down, I also burst into tears. Then memories that had lain dormant for years came bubbling up like water after a break in the ice.

I still remember an English class in Grade One, when the teacher asked me in English what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was "writer".

Also still remember junior high school is about to end a Chinese class, the teacher said: "a great man said 'give me a fulcrum, I will move the whole earth', students, for life, what is your fulcrum?" The teacher asked many students, my answer is "clank of unyielding iron and universal love to the world."

Many self-righteous heavy color of youth Guanghua, already faded with the wind of the years. But until now, I remember so vividly every word I answered with conviction.

I have to admit that over the years, I have not really forgotten my original dream, nor have I really given up from the bottom of my heart, even in the most confused days. However, with this heavy love, around this secular barriers, I also have to admit that I did not have to pay for my dream. Dreams, like outdated clothes, have been put on hold by me for so many years. And in this shelving, in this kind of unhappy days, I was more toward the decadent road slipped.

Now, the first semester of the university is coming to an end. This meditation every night before going to bed always makes me panic. More than a hundred days have been wasted by me again. The past can not be traced, memory to the depths of bitter self-knowledge. I dare not look back easily, tonight also turned into a swim upstream fish, swim to the river of memory at the beginning of the country of dreams. No matter how the future of the river of life, the dream is still so vivid growth in the most primitive place of life, brilliant as flowers, luxuriant as forests, exquisite as golden autumn fiery maple leaves, in the bank of the spring, solidified into a kind of eternal beauty.

In order to the beauty of this dream, in order to this no longer return to the fleeting time, it is the time to struggle.