An essay is urgently needed, preferably melancholy!

Dream of floating dust, empty to shadow.

-the author with a mass of water.

These days, suddenly everything is tired. I didn't surf the Internet, turn on my computer or even go shopping. I am just lazy. It seems that some of the same feelings are different.

Come up once in a while, open blogs and Q, and see the warmth left by familiar friends. I was deeply touched but couldn't say a word, but I silently blessed in my heart.

Rolling the world of mortals, I always like to sit alone and quietly, watching the transparent wind and faint clouds gently across my sky.

A moment of indifference is very difficult in the secular world. This kind of lonely mood, just like myself outside that day. I like watching silence, listening to music and falling asleep with extremely melodious and quiet notes.

Perhaps it is the cold touch of raindrops that leads to these dull and changeable shallow sentences, which are released in the wind with a touch of sadness. The rain stopped, the weather cleared up, and the sadness of the fleeting time was just mottled shadows.

Walking outside the world of mortals, in poetry, not seeking brilliance, illuminating the darkness of the night. I only wish to have a quiet corner, quietly watching the world of mortals and walking through the scenery with a smile.

God gave me life, and I, born to love, walked for love with my last breath. I still can't forget the shadow in the bone marrow and the dream when I was lonely.

The vast sea of people, coming and going like clouds, the vast universe, flying flowers like wadding water, lonely and broken, the waning moon is clear, and there is not much temperature. However, I still want to be the wind at night, the dew under the curtain, holding a pen and dreaming my own dreams.

The dream I have been looking for turned out to be in those cold places. When I see through eternity, those scenes suddenly become like dreams. If I leave, my memory has been erased, and words are the only footprints that can be found.

As for my writing, it seems to be equally gloomy. I like sad and beautiful words, but I simply like to associate the most sincere feelings in my heart with its bits and pieces.

When words flow at your fingertips and write a complete chapter, daydreaming and mood overlap, you can no longer tell whether you are really sad or simply crying.

Wandering on the Internet every day, shuttling through other people's words, like a peeping tom. Trying to cross the text and see through the hidden mood. Someone once asked me how to write a good article. I said, write with your heart.

Because I believe that every article is a silent song, pouring out quietly. Many times, I want to leave my familiar circle of friends and words.

There is no special reason, but I often want to be quiet. There is no need to say goodbye, and there is no place to say goodbye. Thousands of thoughts, beyond words.

Looking up at the sky at night, even without the stars and the moon, it is still beautiful. Beauty is moving, but it makes people want to cry. But that's not sadness, that's just a moment, everything in the world is gray.

Beautiful things always move people, but sad words can infect people's emotions. Writing because of emotion is a kind of leisure. If you feel sad because of writing, it is a kind of sadness.

Although the sunshine always passes through the dust and awakens Huang Hongyin, the longing in my heart and bottom of my heart is still slightly sour, smiling at the flowers and pouring out a few heavy grievances.

And I just want to vent my sadness in words and return to my corner after I am calm. Therefore, I like to keep the tenderness of words, sigh gently with loneliness and feel the concentration of heartache.

PS: I told my fortune yesterday. The master said: I am a woman cherished by the world, because I am hurt by love and tired by love. Kindness is my body. I am afraid of hurting others. I always hurt myself.

Hearing this, I sighed and looked back at my life. I opened the floodgate of memory, bitter and sour again and again. I stopped on the road I walked. After many ups and downs, I was overwhelmed by the taste of life. I can't help feeling deeply, and my hidden heart is raining down. ...

Buddha said: Looking back 500 times in my last life only made me pass by this life. So, in Me Before You, how many times did I look back in my last life?

How many crimes did you commit in your last life to get what you deserve today? Helpless, not heartless, but conscience condemnation, I can only cry for you thousands of times and go our separate ways.

There is no fate in this life. It's just a pity. You are the love of my life, and I can only bear a thousand tears from you, so take care of yourself from now on!

Fingers flying, flowers full of skirts, bustling, bleak everywhere.