Lost Years

Lost years really, that is confusion, a feeling of being at a loss. I don’t know when the ship of life will berth to the center of the vast river, and the distance is just blue. There is no sun, no moon, no stars, and no date. It seems that everything has sunk into the bottom of the river and evolved into a delicate fossil with the faint silt. His boat had no oars, and even the sail had already been lost. Helpless, can only be helpless. I ran desperately, but still couldn’t run out of the football field. I am disoriented player, he can’t find the ball frame at all. He just runs wildly without feeling of exhaustion or exhaustion of power, but running and running can never escape from the lost ruins. The ball is the only bet of life. Without the ball, you will lose your only chip and have to leave. I have no direction, it should be no direction. People are floating, where to go, I am like a walking corpse, unconscious. Sometimes I think that this may be my own fault, or it is my own fault. Time is like a piece of dust and sand. The lost time is when the wind blows, it is gray, the sand is rolling, and the dust is flying. It is because I don’t have the courage to open my eyes, stay where I am, and have no choice., The time is too long. It seems to be the polar day and night at the two poles. It will always be day or night. Time is a dry riverbed, with traces of cracks covering the whole body, looking forward to the ocean flow all the time. Good memories are the reason to stick to it. In waiting, time slipped away suddenly. The wonderful memory and the reality are desperately torn, and we can’t tell whether it is true or not. The dim street lamp lengthened my Afterimage. I stepped into the darkness and shouted loudly to those sleepy Stars until my throat became hoarse and I was exhausted, the only thing left is that I look at each other in silence and night. I am confused, really confused. My soul is wandering, and it was myself who exiled her to a foreign land. Perhaps, time itself is confused and at a loss, chasing desperately, but there is no way to know what is worth chasing desperately. The same is life. Things that are not known at all still need to be chased desperately. I don’t know whether it is called vain or tragedy. Perhaps, I was born in the confused years, so that my whole body was full of bewilderment and even more pain, so I was doomed to face myself with bewilderment. Perhaps, what is confused is only oneself, and the passing of time only aggravates the degree of confusion. Time itself is not at a loss, still walking under the sound of Horseshoe, still waking up and sleeping between sunrise and rising moon. Maybe ====== too much maybe, so many assumptions are not allowed in life, and so many possibilities are impossible. Conjecture and speculation can only make oneself indecisive, at a loss and more confused. Confused Years, confused years, I am confused.

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