Injury is also a flower woven by hands on the vine of time

I was helplessly ready to cry. Before that, I was insulted for the first time in my life: on the blackboard newspaper, I do not know which boy bored me and another boy's love story casually woven into a wind dream. My family accident, which was already haunting me, made it even worse, and I hired a few accomplices to hastily erase the lettering on the blackboard, leaving the blame to the public.

It was the most difficult period of my life, my parents divorced, my grandmother was seriously ill in bed for this, I needed to rush between school and a long family, plus this raging woven love story, let me instantly have the idea of suicide.

I have always been rule-bound, especially about the relationship between men and women, because my mother warned me not to believe too much in the greatness of love. I knew that she was educating me with her own hasty love case with my father, and I listened to her.

That boy, once confessed to me, but I was mercilessly rejected, perhaps he is in revenge, or other people's tattling, the wind is still out.

That day, the tall handsome sunny class teacher Yang just took over our class, the first time to deal with the thorny incident is I, the outstanding student dropped out. He looked unprepared, bent his hands, tried to persuade me, but was paralyzed by my tears. He picked up his pen, paused, and still didn't sign his name hastily.

He set up a task force in the class to investigate the incident of slandering me. The results of the investigation were cursory, because a spot check exam unfortunately came, in order to face, I temporarily restrained the original unhappiness, quickly involved in the ranks of the assault.

Wait until the time flies, my original arrogance slowly convergence. And this incident from the youth finally youth also ended hastily, originally, hate can fade slowly with the passage of time.

Graduation year, we solemnly signed each other as a souvenir, Yang teacher wrote in my message book: injury is also a flower woven on the vine of hands in time, injury is also a flower, large and strange, pain and must, this is a mandatory course on the road of life.

I just knew the random nature of that test, I could have walked away, and he guaranteed to the school leaders with his own personality, a test, diverted everyone's goal and my direction.

The event does not end there. Five years after graduation, we have already entered the age of talking about marriage, mostly hovering on the edge of love, and I have been defeated in love four times and retired halfway.

But unexpectedly received the news that the boy was ill. Has been in the same city, usually no contact, after all, is a classmate, although he hurt me, then the youth on the road who can guarantee not to make mistakes?

He looked at me with a sick face and tried to get up, but his hands were weak with pain.

I reached out my hand, carefully aftertaste his past sunshine infinite.

"Is I slander you, that year, we carried the teacher, the students in the class almost all have objects, and I do not, I am curious, afraid of losing, afraid of other people's eyes, said my family is poor, I made up the story, hurt you."

He said it in one breath, and I patted him on the shoulder and sobbed. I do not explain, and then the words will only stimulate him so that he does not want to sound, for this reason, I choose endless silence.

"That injury, tortured me for five years, I am an introverted person, you later retrograde, did not enter the ideal school, plus you for so many years, did not make a boyfriend, this must be all my fault, the injury is fatal, they have been tormenting you and my nerves." I want to tell you, but I never had the chance, now I have, this may be God's revenge."

I want to tell him that my later experience has nothing to do with that injury, I am not a girl who holds a grudge, that injury has been far away with the long river of time, but I can not return to the day in his pain, I can only use the handshake to express forgiveness, with tears to express sadness.

Before leaving, I told him: "Injury is also a flower woven by hands on the vine of time, injury is also a flower, this is an inevitable process, do not care about, let alone worry about."

He smiled, a long smile after throwing away the burden, as if all these years, a pair of big feet have been heavily tied to his shoulders, now, put down, no hate, only friendship and love.

As long as there is love in this world, there must be harm, although you avoid, ignore, or many people choose not to love. The world is composed of love and hurt, love their own people, we should redouble cherish, hurt their own people, do not have to mind for a long time, because love and hurt are all indispensable flowers on the youth branch, growing on the vine of time.

Those who have opened the most flowers are, on the contrary, those who have the richest life experience, and are also the greatest wealth that life has given us.