Pain is also a beautiful

Many children are afraid of pain, but they feel that they are very embarrassed. And I think this is normal. Everyone's heart is afraid of pain. When the medicine bites the bright red wound, when the cold water invades the broken flesh and blood, when the whole skin is torn, the pain will follow. The body stood up and the cold sweat slipped down the back, and it was not in the clothes, and the dark flowers bloomed.

The pain will bloom on the clothes, why can't you bloom a orchid on the cliff of the heart cliff?

The people who walked with pain all the way were tempted, and everyone didn't want to be surrounded by pain. However, people who have not experienced pain are like walking dead, which is the sorrow of a higher level.

I didn’t go to the country, my grandfather, who always loved me, left the world. Although I know that everyone can’t get rid of old and sick, I still stand by and watch my grandfather’s ashes in the little box. Without a little expression, tears started to cry with the family as early as yesterday. At the funeral, I pretended to squeeze a few tears and stared at my hand. Ten fingers are connected to each other, and the hallucinations are general. I feel that the fingertips are filled with the tingling sensation when they are scratched. At that time, I was too young to know that the feeling was called heartache.

Blessing is unparalleled, and the disaster is not alone. Soon, I broke a broken bone in someone else's house. I climbed up from the window sill with one hand and the whole right arm was numb. I couldn’t move it, it was probably too painful. Under the stunned eyes of the aunts who were also interested in chatting on the balcony, I went to the living room to find my father. There wasn’t so much sweat before playing, and the back was wet, and the legs seemed to shudder in the snowy days. My father was shocked and immediately took me to the hospital. My mother comforted me behind me. I didn’t listen to it. I watched a few people move quickly to give me a heavy plaster on my right arm. I didn’t say it from beginning to end. A word.

The next days were not so good, and the pain that reached the limit and disappeared quickly became a real feeling. Going all the way to school, the number of eyes cast on me is endless. When I had such a sense of existence, I was not happy at all. The plaster was dismantled, but my hand was still not good. I couldn’t even straighten my arm. The hand was the pain of the cheekbones. It hurt me to take a breath. .

Later, later, it seems that the usual bicycle ride falls not as painful as when I was a child. The fingertips that were cut by the knife did not feel anything, but I still put a layer of band-aid like a child. My mother groaned and was a box of bottom-up band-aids, sighing, and even blaming me for not having the strength.

Despite this, I hope that those pains will appear more frequently in my life. Not that I like pain, I am as scared and disgusted by many people. But without pain, we can't know what happiness is; without pain, we can't become stronger; without pain, we can't understand the true meaning of life more thoroughly. The pain is not a kind of beauty. It rubs our heart that is not vulnerable. It is like a cockroach. A fine sand slides into its soft body, and it is cruelly stabbed. The pain is condensing, day and night, It became a dazzling, value-for-money pearl.

The second day: the sadness of the windmill