Camouflage and reality

The Internet is a good thing. Even if I didn't think of the positive energy that it brought to me from the beginning, I should have "raised up" now - or "had looked up".

I started to hang around the Internet. Because of the game, I was lingering on the Internet. Because of the novel, I didn’t realize it until I read an Excel-style article. The composition on the surface is something. I just saw one. The topic of the essay can sum up the central idea of ​​this essay.

Writing, the master of the school is always rendering and rendering, I think if they learn art, they will be able to draw Van Gogh's "Sunflower" to the traditional Chinese painting, oil painting, watercolor and so on more than a dozen different styles.

But I am not a tyrant. Ever since, I don't understand what is buried under this camouflage net.

The following essays are nothing to watch, basically just a few, you do not have the style and ability to learn the tyrants, simply do not take the porcelain to live. It’s not that everyone can't go further than the tyrants. Who says my writing is “straightforward”?

I like the aesthetic depiction of European battlefield style, which is very tortuous, but we can't just live in our own dreams. The late Ming Dynasty writer Zhang Wei lived in his own dreams, and even his own world did not enter. I lived in my own world, watching the symbiotic world as carefully as a bystander.

I don't want to pretend. But I don't understand, what is true?

I have to say a fact, perhaps the fact that we "shared", I don't know how many people have such an experience, but I want to say that this is true to me. Very simple, because my test composition, I was shot on my face by the teacher. The above thirty pairs of ridiculous combination numbers directly put me into the hell from the eyes of others.

"You, I don't want to write any more! I still suggest that you don't develop in the liberal arts, your math is bad, or you can make up the science!"

No one knows how painful this sentence is for a student who is suddenly sentenced to death on the road to literary dreams! It is like a dancer who lost his legs, the shooter lost his eyes, the writer lost his soul, and the soldier lost his faith!

This is still a liberal arts!

I like writing, but I don't want to write those one-size-fits-all articles. There is no soul. No matter how gorgeous words are used, I see only a pale heart, a numb soul. I used to have innovative ideas in the essay writing, but the new essay has always become better in the constant washing, becoming a star, until now I read through my "innovation" essay, I found that there are changes The land can't be changed again. It's not pleasing to the next two times. It can be changed in three times. I always feel that it is not perfect. I can't change it until I can change it. I found out that this composition is what I wrote. I don't know, the old things only left my thoughts at the beginning.

Choosing camouflage or real? I want to choose the truth, because no matter how pale the statement, I have to expose it, and wash it again and again, until it is white, it seems to be an extreme rendering by outsiders, even plain white is left. When I stepped into my soul.

Literature, I see two realms. One is a flowing painting, and the other is a song from the soul. Eighty percent of the source of information in a person's life comes from the eyes, and the flowing paintings will make us feel a beautiful feeling. It is a whisper that directly trembles the heart of the person; but the song of the soul will truly become eternal. He is not a feeling of chilling, but a sway of the soul - proof that you are not a pool of stagnant water.

There are indispensable camouflage in the world, some are disguised as good, some are disguised as evil, some are disguised as true, some are pretending to be false, and no one can disguise the soul. He is the innermost feeling of a person. Sprinkling a lie requires a thousand lie to demonstrate, but the real face is always blank - you can write your light.

There are countless masks in this world, but we need these masks; we are good at camouflage, but we can't disguise them; we can choose to pretend and be true, but we can't pollute the deepest soul of a person.

Camouflage and reality, I can never choose the same, because, when we cut off the ignorance and stupid shell, the rest, only true.

Second day: comprpup