Not all memories are good, not all people are worth remembering. Years of the river is too long, most of the people and things will be mercilessly washed away. However, everything related to youth, always precipitation to the bottom of my heart, become indelible memories of the good.You, turn around and walk away. It‘s your choice. Maybe there will be no give up, maybe there will be sentimentally attached, but the enemy is not determined to turn around. Even if I hear the cry, even if I see the tears, I still can’t change, because the desire for freedom is so strong.

A person walking on the hot asphalt road, no longer pretend to smile, no longer pretend that they don‘t care, allow themselves to beat the face, striding to walk, has not stopped, but do not know where to go.

I don’t know how long I walked, I stood in the thick shade. Suddenly, the story that belongs to us, we can not predict the beginning of the story, can not predict its end, we are only participants. Remember you said, we are just the fate of the arrangement, I blame the arrangement, little do you know, all the joys and sorrows of our own are written in a stroke. And we only look back at the moment, only clear why; Also only in too late, just figured out the time to miss. Just two months, but everything is frozen in the moment you turn around, only to find that I do not do well enough, almost have done nothing for you, but you gave me is devoted. I‘m sorry, I’m sorry, but it‘s useless afterwards. Again sigh, again pity, is also unable to look back missed.

Life ah, there are always a variety of scenery, but on earth which kind of scenery is their most want? We can choose to give up, but also can choose to insist, but which is many years later, we will not feel sorry? That’s your problem. That‘s mine. We chose a different road, the process will not be able to avoid regret, not sigh, but anyway, please must remember, your memory of me, have everything here. The memory of youth, never fade, will always accompany you and me, grow up together, until the last page of life.

In time, you and I may have been the face of the vicissitudes of life, each in the edge of heaven, the sea. Outside of time, you and I still have crystal eyes, sitting side by side on the classroom steps full of peach blossom. Whether you see it or not, it’s there, come or go; Whether you read it or not, it‘s there, no increase, no decrease.

Memory is a bridge between the past and the present, between you and me. When you remember, once everything will appear, accompany you, do not abandon, do not die of old, do not hurt, and you often accompany.

There are always some time, only to find in the past, it has been deeply engraved in the memory. Those people, have gone away in the river of time in a boat, disappeared trace. Heart, but flowing across the river of time warmth, never die.