Always stubbornly think: dream is the outlet of memory. In the dead of night, between half a dream and half a wake, memory slowly comes out. We all thought it was just a dream, so calm aftertaste. In fact, it is abandoned memory, but after the dream decoration and then come back.

Yes, it was abandoned. Scolding from parents, criticism from teachers, ridicule from others, betrayal from friends, departure from lovers... All these unpleasant memories are abandoned in the darkest corner of my heart, do not want to be mentioned, do not want to be uncovered. However, unwilling to be alone, it will attack people when they are most vulnerable. And the middle of the night is the best battlefield.

Who said: memory as short as the last night, until the dawn will be destroyed. In fact, the memory is not too short, but after the broken pieces are too small, not enough to support the whole night. Then, will emerge as the nightmare before the dawn. First or last, in the depth of your nightmare, everyone will smile and everyone will cry.

In the morning, stare at yourself through lost eyes. What I see is a haze. The confusion has soaked through.

In fact, the most terrible memory is not abandoned, but suspected.

When the memory is suspected, the heart of the kind of hesitation is unable to express in words. Not knowing what it is, who it belongs to, or even whether it is real or unreal. But this kind of can not prove, because, we can not go back to the past. Don‘t go back. So, with suspicion, continue to make memories. Wandering silently in front of the yellow light, waiting for the night, delusional through the dream, to those or crystal clear debris, or light acerb ashes for a comfort.

In the memory of not knowing whether it is real or unreal, we slowly compromise. Yes, doubt is destroyed by compromise, forgotten in the midst of noise and error, and carried away in joy and sorrow.

Perhaps remembering is the best way to deal with memory.

Let it remain intact in your mind, and when you need to remember to drive away the inevitable loneliness, strange but familiar images will be shown like a movie one after another. Maybe it’s black and white, maybe it‘s snowflakes, but it’s real. Laugh, true; The pain is real.

But, like Yi An, the town sun swan goose flew over, sigh the evening silence is only the torture of their own body, the destruction of the soul. Memory is to remember, not to immerse. Dwelling on the past will only make you sad, not helpful.

The river of life keeps flowing, happiness, pain, happiness, sadness will eventually pass, why care about the passage of what is, how much. To cherish and grasp every passing moment is the eternal attitude to life