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2012-08-04 15:14:45

 Silent night, quietly sit in front of the computer, watched a space, quietly read a story, a YiGouGou say quietly product. A heart seems to be immersed in others in the past, in the story of the mind free others, go up and down, YiGouGou look be like common words, YiGouGou like joke words, but feel out each people all have the unusual story, or touching, or joy, or happiness, or sad. The mood need writing, the text is the best way to describe it, it certainly is. In everyone's words, can see the different mood.

Think what you might it not? Silent night, always thinking fiercely, such as one by one the memory of scattered always keep appear on your symbols of the mind, remind you or deep or shallow memory. Some love, in a casual and deep; Some people, when you least expect them to, encounter; Some things in casual, start. These people these things, and can be in casual missed. When all becomes the past, will only turn to memory, can be in such a night in makes no secret to quietly released, let you true memory up their are true of happened, even if some things you try to forget. So quiet night, but always beat on an uneasy heart, or joy or heartache.

Years away is memory, but memories will be more and more clear. Clearly know some things could not, and clearly know some people can't stay, but oneself but how also can not put down this heart, always in hopelessness of look forward to. Let their heartache and pain. Many days, like sad. A person only sit and listen to the sound of finely season rebirth, looking out of the window when the blossom of when to start and leaves fall faded and fallen, in the morning MuGu the changes of time to listen to the subtle voice. A suffering heart so ups and downs, ChenChenFuFu, any pain burns, as miss spreading, and let the tears flow. The wet season, full years.

Always in such a quiet night. The mood was often left. Looking at now, recalling the past. The past is a cup of wine, let us in drunk after cry; The past is blindly medicine, we used to recall to grieve. The past is a kind of fetter, also is a kind of power. Again good, then the pain, precipitation in the past, with only a few faintly pieces, hanging in the lonely heart empty. Think about what a silly. All the people and things, are scattered and end sometimes together, have to go to, have why to demand?

Now I want to tell myself, my dear, don't seize memories do not put, breaking line kite, can only make it fly, let go of it, but also let yourself; Dear, you must find my own heaven and earth, and can make you stand on the ground things; Dear yourself, you want self-confidence and even a little narcissism, always remind myself I deserve all the best.
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