Tears in my eyes, blood in my tears, lingering blood and tears, blurred my eyes and hurt my heart. I can't see, I can't tell; I don't know. I can't feel it. Is this an affectation of fate or a trick of the world?
Think just think, reality or reality. Can't change, can't change. And I was still silly, dreaming, waiting, and finally hurt and hurt.
The person who once said forever left unexpectedly. Once said forever words, or in the passage of time drifting away. The person who once thought he knew you best just knew himself. The person who once said he would warm you for the rest of your life is the one who hurt you the most. So what else can I believe? So what else can last forever?
In the past few years, you were a wound in my heart. I can't forget it. So I choose to remember.
The stomach is raw and painful. The day you left, I gave an anesthetic injection to my heart. I think this will not hurt my heart. In this way, even if I am alone, I can live. I practice independence every day. I tell myself every day that I don't hurt. So, my heart is really paralyzed, so I really become an indifferent person. I don't care about everything in front of me anymore, just blindly work and numb work. But the wound can't heal. The pain won't disappear. It's just a transfer of position. The stomach is so painful, twitching, ravaging, pulling the heart, tearing and moving. It's hysterical.
It is said that autumn has come, and it has come in a casual moment. Time is full of such small things, everything comes without warning, and everything goes without trace. Should I admire it for walking so imperceptibly, or sigh that it walks so quietly? I really want to fly away with the autumn wind and wither with the autumn leaves, so the smoke goes away and the ash goes out, so I'm buried in the mangroves. No one will remember that such a woman has been here, and no one will care about the departure of such a woman. I'm just a woman in pain. I have nothing to say about your indifference. I'm not a kind woman. I don't know how to love someone well. Is this a trick of fate, or is it your own fault? Why is all the beauty so far away from me, and why is the brilliant encounter that could have moved everyone to tears destroyed by my thought. I think your hatred is justified and taken for granted. I don't deserve such love. Fate doesn't give me the right to be happy. The world doesn't teach me how to smile. I shouldn't have existed. If I could choose, I would not be born; If I can choose, I don't want to be human.
The night is as quiet as the frozen lake without ripples. Looking from the window, it was hazy. A man walked out of the room and ran barefoot on the national highway. Finally, the soles of his feet were bleeding. Finally, he couldn't run and walk anymore. I squatted on the roadside like a lost child, burying my head deeply, whining and sobbing. Eager to have both hands to pull me up, eager to have a shoulder to carry me, eager to have a voice to tell me: cloud, don't be afraid, don't hurt, hold my hand, I will take you home and carry you home. You won't be homeless. You're not a floating cloud. I will hold your hand and never give up.
In the confusion, I seem to see a familiar figure coming towards me and approaching slowly. There was a smile on the corner of his mouth, but he didn't realize that it was just his illusion. Pisces' nature, all his fantasies, all of which no longer exist. I raised my head in surprise and found for the first time that the night sky of the city was so clean that I could clearly see those clouds. Remembering the little notes sent to me by my relatives, one of them deeply touched me. He said: in my heart, you are a lonely cloud, not afraid of mountains, set off by the blue sky, accompanied by eagles, and fly freely. These broken children can always move me. Jiaqi, pozhao, Xiaobin, Xiaoyu,,, met you, I met warmth. You don't know that night clouds, which are naughty and funny on the surface, are often moved to tears by you.
It is said that a person with a tear mole is destined to have more tears in this life, sometimes as torrential as rain, sometimes as unintentional as dew. This tear mole grows for the love in life, it will sprout, grow, and finally dry up. What cries is the love in this life, and what hurts is the love in the afterlife. If the afterlife cannot continue this love, then the tear mole will accompany you and wait with you until one day he will find your pain. Tear mole, Dark red color numbness, wrapped in a thick sense of sleep, is the appearance of tears after condensation, is the gap of combustion.
I am a woman with a mole in the corner of my eye, so this life is doomed to endless tears and a painful woman. In the dark, in the moonlight, I saw the bunch of red roses on the windowsill, so delicate and beautiful that it hurt my heart. I remember I brought back a bunch of white roses. I passed by the florist that day. Through the clean and transparent French windows of the florist, I saw them. Looking at them, I had an unspeakable feeling in my heart. Maybe it was because they were somewhat similar to clouds, so I took them home. But I never found that they were dyed red by my blood and tears, blooming so grandly. You can clearly see the blood on the petals. I tore them off one by one, spread them on the bed, and buried myself in them, allowing tears to fall and blood stains to mottle. I picked up those petals, and then scattered them. There was no sound, and they fell like a sad funeral.
On the blood dripping rose, who infected the red? Who left those wounds in the blur of blood and tears?