Years are like songs. In the rhythm of singing, we have consciously or unconsciously stepped out our own history, leaving deep or shallow marks in you, me and his world.

In other people‘s eyes, what we left behind is a string of special passwords. Other people can only use his own decoding method to read the broken chapters. Just as a key opens a lock, the key you hold can interpret the most secret content of yourself.

We are all keen to know other people, repeatedly guessing who has an interesting story in his chest and who has a bloody heart in his strong shell. In terms of psychology, it is the instinct of human beings to observe other people’s behaviors to achieve their own behavior correction, which is perceptual. How many people can rationally calm down, put a cover of tea, and slowly read and taste themselves in the dense white fog?

I struggled to open up my own history. Those once happy and brilliant chapters were lost by various daily trivia, leaving some fragmentary flash points, as if the stars suddenly appeared in the dark night, beautiful but far away close to unreal. But those past events, which are shrouded in black, are marked with exclamation marks one by one, and the roots made of nerves are firmly rooted in the ground at the foot. Only then did I realize that happiness is always short, and pain is a long-term pastime of loneliness and boredom. It can only take a long time to chew up its hard shell and finally be forgotten and digested.

Some people say that growing up is painful, but it‘s really enjoyable to look at the process of growing up. Reading self is a lonely journey, and there is no lack of pleasant discovery in the journey, which is enough to make up for the fear of loneliness.

I sit on the skylight of my brain, watching the old pictures and the changing thoughts in silence. It’s a very inexplicable thing to know yourself. It‘s very difficult to unlock the password left by yourself with a key, face others naked after analyzing yourself and show them to others.

Those recorded in my history, such as my words and deeds, what can it represent? It shows whether I am good or evil, weak or strong, warm or cold? Maybe I have changed the key several times, who knows what it was like at that time!

It’s like you can‘t open the door with your own key, or you can’t dial dozens of numbers to hear the voice forever: sorry, the subscriber you dialed has been shut down. This feeling is really discouraging.

Perhaps reading self and reading, the pursuit of the same realm: no understanding. Reading self is not to use my words and deeds for behaviorism analysis. What I want is just the feeling after reading!

Thinking about this, the thought of falling into a dead corner is burning up again. Through reading self, I find out my weakness and illusion, and avoid repeating the failure; through reading self, I find my advantages, affirm my value, and let me laugh for tomorrow; through reading self, I see the concern and friendship around me, which supports me to continue to step on a unique brand and leave my own chapter in the song like years.

Close one‘s own history and complete one “reading oneself”, its wonderful point can only be understood and can’t be expressed. When you close your eyes, you can still feel the thickness of the book in your hand. Have you read yourself twice?