Lying in bed ready to fall asleep, listening to Wei Xueman’s “I am Really Love You”, suddenly had an idea, get up and turn on the computer. I haven’t written for many years. This function, which has been blocked by real life, always spreads to my heart leisurely in the middle of the night, especially when I hear the music of feeling. Over the years, it seems to continue to write something, but it is always unable to do so. It’s not old, not tired, not lack of thinking, unable to use words to describe a sense of unease, stretched out his hand to touch, but feel so far away. Articles without sense of reality are often cut off by themselves. Maybe that’s it. I was afraid that half of the writing would suddenly stop, and I couldn’t touch the direction of the continuation. I used to be talented and proud of myself, but now it seems to be dusty. I can only miss it in the dark night. But does missing represent losing? I don’t want it to be like this. I feel that I don’t know much, only these are left. But now I have no motivation to know myself in the past and the traces of words. The lyrics are sung, let me go with you, let me go with you. But where did you go. I was still moved by the moving prelude to the piano. It turned out that I had never forgotten that I could write something, but it slept for too long and it was not easy to wake up. Facing the present era, how much can I tell if I can adapt to it. I really want to go back to the past, not because the past is so good, but because the past has really been lost. So it’s hard to let go. In fact, there are a lot of things, but too much silence makes people ignore its existence. I used to think that the words and phrases at hand came naturally and stayed calmly without fading away. But I lost it, silently. Looking for it, I knew it was a difficult search. Maybe there was no chance and tacit understanding to fit, maybe it was lost. Close your eyes and recall the past, and try to find a way to wake up the feeling. Now, it’s really a little difficult, a little difficult……

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