single diary , with 500 words to write tempting single diary. Lin Tai Jia launched a new song naïve evil, singing "The Nerves of love, later, a happy, will be sad." Will lie before, there is a word, do not say. "It seems that we all become adults , because after the injury, we grow up overnight." But perhaps there is no need to mourn our innocence, for maturity is the innocence of love. (same field Gayon: single diary: Too Like you, so afraid to face such a persistent self )
"Do you know what was most cruel to me?" It was you, and I, overnight, became an adult. 」
Think of first love, is two green faces, you put out a hand, and I picked up the past. We kiss very clumsy, love to pour out the lungs, do not know how to break up, do not know how to disguise the atmosphere of the face.
I remember your fingertips crawling on my back, down my spine, and I was itching to laugh. The afternoon sun from your rental room window spilled down, I said sunshine just must go out, and you did not answer, your face in the backlight more and more blurred.
I went out of your door and you didn't follow. Since then, you have been marked as a person who can make me cry.
I go all the way forward, repeatedly told myself not to cry, at least to endure to turn, your fingertips at the temperature still stay on my body, warm hot to grow a root thorn, my back could not help shaking. I think I was mature at that moment.
The original maturity is, you learn what things have reservations, do not grow into a person easily seen through; mature is you no longer willing to easily let yourself hurt, you can no longer be silly leng promise I love you, we have later.
"There is a star, I looked up to the stars, quietly fall." The nerves of love, later, a happy, will be sad. Will lie before, there is a word, do not say. 」
But how to say, I miss.
I miss the time when you love me, like in my world to put a savage fire, I miss my love you, all can not tolerate a grain of sand jealousy details, I miss we easily believe that forever, I miss we do not particularly pretend to love adults, will cry will hurt.
I think, more perhaps, that we have all along misunderstood what maturity is. Maturity is not to stop crying, but to cherish every time you shed tears.
Mature is not no longer naïve, but love naïve have evil.