Everyone has their own thinking and logical way of life, we don't Nen experience of others to building their own life. Don't put the success of others into their own life pressure. Life is life, maintaining a healthy life, and to live happy - this is the meaning of life. Remember that maupassant's remark, the life can not so good as you think, but also not as bad as you think. Therefore, we could live it well, heaven and earth, rightness get parents, rightness get social, rightness get yourself.
Want to never do a child
Lightly of music in the ear ring, always gentle sadness.
I know, sadness, sometimes, not music. Melancholy, are those who fail the but again the unavoidable reality. In all truth, we all can't escape inside. All retreat was filled with a bit reality.I want to do a kid, a simple child.
Can the all people truly do myself. Before Smiling, sadly cry. No reason to make a fuss. Can a candy bar just for the tears, can see a stray dog because it squat in the street, can also sad because beloved flowers withered just sorry to nest in the mother's arms. I want to make a baby. A someone spoil the child. Can need not a personal face very dark sky, in a strange city, also lost in felt their way. Actually, I just want to make a baby. Stupid kid. In all ignorant space and time playing in the sky, don't worry about tomorrow whether bright and beautiful, can play in the side who can be hanging on in the bosom looking for warm, who can take in the gentle eyes, who can safely enjoying who care, there is no pressure.
But I, can be, want to...Night, lying in bed, reluctant to close your eyes.
The night comes, finally can remove heavy armor, to be real pain themselves. Darkness no one can see the real I. I, the real I. Can't let people see. The sad reality, make nerve fragile up...
For a long time in the past, I was told, do a real person, is very difficult.
That time, foolishly ask, why?When I true, no one will believe me, is true.Actually, others believe or not, and why?But, the body or something was hurt.Good hope, oneself still the vacant children, even without direction, but in the depths of the soul, but seeing qing himself.