My world is spring blossoming

Everyone has an inner world of their own, just as everyone has an ulterior secret. The world also has four seasons of reincarnation and alternating hot and cold, but that year, that she, my world, entered the spring in advance. .

That year, due to the moving relationship, I transferred to school and left the familiar classmates familiar with the school. Everything is strange. Some people say: "Youth is to meet seven people, one bright, one sad, one gorgeous, one adventure, one stubborn, one soft, and one is growing." At the time, I was stubborn, I don't want to be strange. People communicate, because I think that youth is like a one-man show, paying more and investing more, everything will die, leaving no trace.

My new desk is a girl. She is not tall, thin or beautiful, but inexplicable, I just want to use the word beautiful to describe her. She is very quiet, her grades are very good, she has few friends, and she can say no. During that time, the only intersection between us was nothing more than borrowing a pencil eraser and nothing else. A physical education class can break the embarrassing situation between us.

On that day, I didn't go out with a stomachache. She broke her leg and didn't go out. We sat like this and didn't talk. The air in the room seemed to stagnate into a sad, pale blue bubble, and we were soaked in it. Hesitant and sensitive, wrap myself up with a thick layer of enamel, she has her little world, I have my little world. Finally, she spoke first: "That, why don't you talk?" I turned to look at her, facing her gaze, and whispered, "I don't know anyone, not to mention, we don't have a common language, so we don't have a common language. ......" "You don't talk, how do you know that there is no common language?" So, we talked about "whether there is a common language" to talk about a whole class of physical education. The friendship at that time was like a dark rush under the waves, and the heart was slightly stunned, but silent.

Time passed quickly, and two months passed, it was winter. One morning, when I entered the classroom with a thin yang, she squatted and said, "Are we exchanging secrets?" I thought it would be down without thinking. Finally, she asked me: "You know why I am in summer too. Do you want to wear long pants?" I shook my head. She told me: "It's a ichthyosis. My calf is like a fish scale. It's a piece of it. It's hard to see." I sighed and said, "What do you tell me?" She laughed. "We are good friends, aren't we? Good friends should be honest with each other." Her smile was warm and bright.

Until then I realized that youth is not a monologue. All feelings are screaming, paying, and always gaining. I have paid a sincere heart and gained a friendship and a heart.

Our world collided with each other, stirred up the fireworks of youth, and rippled the friendship, illuminating our hearts. It was my little world that entered the spring, spring blossoms, and the world.

The first day of the second and fifth classes of the eighth middle school in Daxing District, Daxing District, Beijing: Wang Muhan