Insomnia is an emotional essay. I haven't seen insomnia for a long time until late at night. Think about who isn't. People who are too sleepy to sleep have their own worries. Just tonight, we finally separated. I still think like I said, and I can't sleep until dawn. The content of this article is insomnia.
Insomnia: emotional essay 1 peach blossoms are cold at first sight, and idiotic people dream more. Whose thoughts are blown by the breeze, the fragrance floats, and the tender heart blooms.
Spring is a sea of flowers, you stand in the south of Nanshan, lingering in the colorful fireworks in March. Watch a busy swallow build a dream with mud in his mouth and enjoy a wandering peach blossom dancing.
Spring is a clear stream. I stood in the north of Beihai, forgetting the drizzle in March and the hazy willow trees. Look at a faint white cloud flowing leisurely, and listen to a rushing little water gurgling.
After many vicissitudes, I still look at the spring breeze with a smile. But the spring breeze messed up your breath and disturbed my firm heart. I can give my heart to you regardless, but I will become a lonely Tianya person because of your indecision. I will go for a spring outing alone, without asking about the return date or the other shore, never knowing the world and forgetting the prosperity of the world.
Eternal love, eternal memories, and short-term lovesickness have no end. If I had known that acacia was tied in my heart like this, it would not be like you didn't know. Acacia is both bitter and sweet. What is really bitter is that there is no firm heart. If your heart will swing, how can I calmly look forward to the future that belongs only to my imagination?
There is a grave in the south of Nanshan, where a heart is buried.
In the north of Beihai, a teenager lost a heart.
The teenager who lost his heart is still thinking about the girl south of Nanshan. It turns out that he is deeply in love, and even if he becomes a ghost, he will still guard the remaining obsession. Just because he met her, he became very low, as low as the dust, but his heart was happy and flowers blossomed in the dust.
Let me, drunk in the sea of flowers, listen to gossip and press this feeling of credit into my heart. Not yesterday. I took a peach blossom to my heart, drank a glass of turbid wine to solve my dream, and followed this sleepless night of lovesickness.
It's almost five o'clock in the morning, the window is white, it's quiet outside, birds are singing and dogs are barking in the distance. Insomnia, brain resistance, refused to surrender. My mind wandered in the subconscious, and many pictures appeared, which seemed fictional, but very real, as if they really happened in front of my eyes.
Fog, thick fog, milky, dense on the lake. The mountains are green. What kind of trees are they, like pine trees? Bridges, stone bridges and bridge bodies are full of cracks. It's so quiet and calm. Jump to another picture, hometown, as if it were not. Tile house, crooked words on the wall, written in chalk. I was lying in the quilt, which was satin and smooth. I may be very young, seven years old, maybe not yet seven years old. There are birds outside the window, that kind.
A cooing bird, it may perch on the buttonwood of a neighbor's house; Mulberry blossoms, like horns, with honey in the stamens, are sweet.
A mosquito growled in my ear, and the excited nerve expanded the sensitivity of audio-visual function. My temples are bulging, but I'm still not sleepy. The sound of the shutter door opening, a person's cough, is quiet again.
Continue to "pancake" in bed, anxious and bored. Get dressed and go out. The cold wind blew, sobering the numb nerves. People who sleep less than an hour every night are like drunks, their heads are groggy and wobbly. The street is empty. I want to buy breakfast, and I intend to make up for it. Want to sit in the square, the square has been "occupied" by aunts, DJ dance music is in my ear, which is too contrary to my numb nerves. Laughter, cheerful laughter ... square dancing. ...
At six o'clock, the first bus leaves. Delusion, time stops, so that the dull head does not have to face the tedious daily life.
In the park, the lotus bloomed, and it was still a flower when it came last time.