Sitting by the window, watching the yellow leaves fluttering
in the sky, my heart falls slowly and quietly like the falling leaves,
accumulating a scattered melancholy in the wind and a wordless loneliness. I
open the diary on the table, but it seems like I haven't written for a long
time. Reading the earlier pages stirs up the beautiful memories in my heart,
but I can't help but sigh in despair. Now, even a confidant to confide in is
absent, so what's the point of recording these fleeting moments?
My mother, my dearest relative, I always want to communicate with her, and I
believe she could help me unlock my heart and ease my pain. However, every
time I see her tired face, I can't bear to disturb her further. So, I keep
all the joys and sorrows bottled up inside. If I were living in a dormitory,
it would be worse. I am not good at expressing myself, and I'm like a lonely
goose, always walking alone. This autumn in the quiet courtyard only adds to
the desolation in my heart, just like the melancholy autumn scenery.
At night, the wind seeps through the windows and pierces my heart with its
chill. I lie in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling for a long time, feeling
empty inside. Is this wordless time supposed to be my memories of youth? I
toss and turn, unable to sleep, and I reach out and touch something.
Moonlight shines through the clear glass and falls softly on a golden
bookmark. I pick it up and gently stroke the delicate texture, this
leaf-shaped bookmark was a gift from my mother. At the time, I thought it
was beautiful, so I readily accepted it, inserted it into a book, and forgot
about it for eight years.
My hand trembles suddenly, and my heart shudders along with it. A soft yet
unyielding force spreads through my body in a daze. I look at the bookmark
and am speechless. Yes, eight years have passed, and in the years that I no
longer use it, it has remained unchanged, as beautiful as ever, even more
rustic and charming than before. The mesmerizing luster of the bookmark
seeps gradually into my heart, and there seems to be an infinite power
gathering.
That night, I suddenly realized that growing up in solitude is not that bad.
If we can maintain our consistency and beauty like this bookmark in wordless
years, that is our true growth. Enduring loneliness, silently contemplating,
and adding maturity and support to our youth, ultimately achieving the great
beauty of life. |