Looking out from the dormitory windowsill, you can see the kindergarten. We used to need an alarm clock, because every morning and evening, the chaotic sounds of children slaughtering pigs echoed throughout the dormitory. The children were innocent. From their penetrating yet utterly unrestrained shouts, I could clearly feel their deep desire and stubbornness—whether they wanted to go home or stubbornly refused to go home. I don't know why there is such an affiliated kindergarten at school. Is it to occasionally reminisce about fleeting years and release a bit of bourgeois charm, or to quickly realize the truth of the truth that 'those who come after you can still catch up?' I don't know. It's just that occasionally, when I'm in a bad mood, I might say a few words at the right moment, like 'How wonderful youth is,' and then smile boringly. Gradually, these shouts no longer hurt much. Without a doubt, we can now sleep soundly and have all kinds of dreams—no children.
I heard from an old friend that running 1000 meters now makes me feel nauseous and gag. I thought of myself, who prided myself on running 1000 meters without any pressure, and after finishing a short run, I also felt like dying. Counting on my fingers, I read and slept for a year, then I was too lazy to go out. For the next six months, I was told I couldn't run. In this way, it's been two and a half years since I last got into this great sport. Suddenly, I realized that this year is as beautiful as last year, but people have long since changed. These past years, I've lived a life of reclusion, naive about worldly affairs, grown old and lost in experience, and the gap between big and small has widened without exception. From time to time, I am confused and told that someone is graduating, getting married, or having a child, and where they went. Then I reminisced everywhere I looked. A flood of emotions surged inexplicably, and I stayed there for a long time, at a loss. Surely it was a subconscious self-comfort or a deep, rebellious spirit, singing Andy Lau's "Forgetfulness Water" with the flavor of Ashin's "Boundless Seas, Vast Skies"—how tragic that feeling was. But for those comrades who have set foot or are about to embark on the social path of the great era, knowing or not knowing, all I can say is that reunion and parting are inevitable; year after year passes much faster than imagined. In this situation, I can only write two lines to express my feelings: "Riding swiftly on horseback, relying on the youth of all things, gathering again and later, laughing and chatting among the clouds," and then fate brings us together again. This morning I saw a very frustrating sentence: because I am powerless, I go with the flow; Because my heart has nothing to rely on, I go with the flow. I was itching to change, but thinking about it, it really seems that is true.I remember seeing a sentence left by a sentimental girl in my first-year high school multimedia class: 'Every day, a dream dies in my heart.' On a whim, I changed it to 'persevere to the end.' Looking back now, I realize I really did change it correctly. After finishing school, people are busy finding jobs and starting businesses—good or bad, day by day. Those still studying feel envious, stressed, anxious all day, yet still, day by day, and the similarity lies in the bigger or smaller thoughts in their hearts. I also remember another multimedia class, where a boy and I had a joking conversation about a subject teacher. He said, 'If you are an angel, then you will need a very large pair of wings.' I replied, 'If you are an angel, then no matter how large the wings, you still can't fly...' At that time, young and confident, all seemed silent and sorrowful. How are my lovely little friends, and the teachers who were innocently affected? \ When reciting about grudges and heartfelt matters, heroes in the world are already scarce. Recently, I've noticed that personal and group interactions have become increasingly unscrupulous. Recalling the days in elementary and middle school when we enjoyed cursing whenever we met feels like many years have passed in the blink of an eye. Those equally unscrupulous brothers have long spread across the country with no trace left behind, causing a pang in my heart. I watched a few basketball live streams and realized that the players I once ardently admired are now declining, mostly unable to keep up as before. Thinking about it, I've already passed the age for discussing basketball, and those friends I used to chat with are now scattered, another pang of pain. It occurs to me that communication between people sometimes seems so confusing—for instance, someone may get very close with certain people for a period and then inexplicably cut off contact; or a group of people may passionately discuss a topic for a while and then, in tacit agreement, never mention it again. Life sometimes feels too slow, sometimes too restless, with changes happening so abruptly, much like a cup of tea in winter— going from warm to cool, from strong to weak, in just a moment. \ 2014 is approaching. The Maya's centuries-old prophecies only briefly amused the busy masses, and then everyone went back to doing whatever boring things they were doing. At this moment, young lovers, still immersed in happiness and sweetness, are eagerly looking forward to the romantic night from '13 to '14, while I, after the end of days, with a mix of anxiety about the future, nostalgia for yesterday, and unease for now, foolishly muddle through another year.Then, with unparalleled calmness, I realized that these days pass by just like flipping through an old calendar—today is suitable for a haircut, tomorrow is unsuitable for cleaning. There are always a few days in the year when everything is favorable, and a few days when nothing is suitable. After flipping through the days, it all starts over again. The only thing worth paying attention to is what we have actually done during these years, rather than just letting one day pass after another with nothing meaningful. Doing the right thing at the right time is ultimately too idealistic; every now and then giving yourself a sense of existence is necessary. Occasionally, when talking with my roommates about the future, our words carry so much uncertainty. It feels like there are far more hardworking and talented people than me, making the future seem bleak. On second thought, if we work hard and persist, setbacks won't be too much of an issue. After all, there are also many people weaker than ourselves. Look at those who compete in curling on TV; just by putting effort into dragging the floor, they can become world champions. How could our own technical skills possibly go to waste? We must believe that the places we can reach in our dreams at night, we can eventually reach in footsteps too.
I made a big cup of tea, and amidst the rising steam, I seriously reviewed the path I've taken so far, realizing that there are still many things I want to do and need to do, yet I've done quite a few unnecessary or unwanted things as well. Ordinary days continue in repetition, and sometimes I can't help but sigh, feeling that my current life doesn't match me. In fact, it's not that my current life doesn't match me, but that I fundamentally don't match the self I used to work hard for, or those once luxurious but somewhat attainable dreams. This world is too damn vast; no one cares about your trivial ramblings—they simply have no room for them. Therefore, you can vent, but you must also strive, because even today, your aging parents are still working hard for you, and that is reason enough to give your all.
Outside, the noise of children has faded. In the empty kindergarten, only the harsh winter wind blows through a few unknown old trees, as their branches and leaves intertwine, exchanging dreams for the coming year. Occasionally, unknown birds fly across the night sky, leaving scattered, swaying shadows under the dim streetlights, mingling with the elongated and shortened figures of men and women hurrying along the bustling paths, stubbornly resisting the freezing winter that shackles body and mind. I think of that corner, where the path that marks the start of winter is often covered with purple bauhinia flowers. Surely, right now countless petals must be falling again, and surely tomorrow the path will be filled with drifting flowers, a scene intoxicatingly beautiful, don't you think?\——On the evening of December 31, 2013 (Gregorian calendar)
