is in the fall period recently, and I always keep an eye on my mailbox, expecting the red number representing unread messages to appear in the upper right corner of the app. Finally, at a dinner party in late autumn, I received an email. But when I opened it, I found it was not an offer or interview notice from HR, but a letter I wrote to myself five years ago.
My friends were sitting next to me, talking about interviews, salaries, job fairs and other topics, but I couldn't listen to anything. This email has been gathering dust for a long time, so unfamiliar that I almost forgot it existed. I tried to recall the day I wrote the letter, but I only remembered a few fragments - in the high school classroom, the teacher tapped chalk on the blackboard and asked everyone to write a letter to "yourself in ten years." But I have always been impatient. I probably feel that ten years is too long, three years is too short, and five years is just right. So on my senior day, I received this email.
I was a little afraid to click on it, for fear that my current tragic collision would offend the expectations I had for myself back then; I was also somewhat eager to get curious, wanting to know what I had written five years ago. After a while of anxiety and excitement, I opened this letter from five years ago:
"Hi, long time no see, I am you when I am 17 years old.
I don't want to ask 'what are you doing now?' keep walking It's too boring to know the answer to a question, so I'm going to write about things that you may have forgotten.
Do you still remember that the teacher couldn't help me and agreed that I chose liberal arts?
I knew the teacher was doing it for my own good. , but for me, liberal arts is never a last resort or a plan. b, not even my escape route." The barbecue in front of
was sizzling and white smoke was rising. The old scene reappeared in front of me - in the office, the teacher spoke earnestly. He felt that I was better than liberal arts. choice.
I am not partial to science. I am good at liberal arts and science. Choosing science is a natural answer in the eyes of parents and teachers, but I still chose liberal arts almost stubbornly. Perhaps it was the casual remark from an elder when I was young that "what you write is quite spiritual." My love grew in my heart, and it only increased as time went by, becoming a part of my flesh and blood. Continue reading the letter:
"Two days ago, the teacher showed the movie "Dead Poets Society" in the self-study class, and now I think of Mr. keating, I still can't stop crying. So even though the exam day is getting closer, I am not nervous, don't care about the results, and I don't regret it.
Because I know that I am doing something I love. When I wrote this letter, I was thinking, what kind of words can transcend the dimensions of time and space, not only become a burden to you, but also touch your heart? After thinking about it, there is nothing more real than the 17-year-old me at this moment. idea.
So I want to say, no matter where life leads you, no matter what choices or pressures you face, I hope you can remain curious and passionate about the world.
Finally, I hope you will be happy when you read this letter.” The attachment of
is a picture. I wrote the words of mr.keating in the corner of the Chinese language book catalog page: "Only by living in dreams can people be truly free. This has always been the case and will always be the case." The green handwriting tells the story With the purity that I have long forgotten. At that time, did I ever think about what I would get after giving?
Today, I almost kneel down in front of the so-called "efficiency", worrying about whether what I am doing is meaningful or not, euphemistically calling it "wasting time without teaching". But in fact, some things do not need to be given such a heavy meaning, and there is no immediate feedback. The utilitarian way of thinking made me forget that the meaning of life lies in life itself.
In a daze, I walked through the bustling corridor again and saw the teacher closing the curtains. The classroom was dimly lit and "Dead Poets Society" was playing on the projector. The figures behind the curtain stood on the desk one after another, their shadows echoing with the heartbeat outside the curtain.
My friend saw me staring at my laptop for a long time without speaking, and bumped my shoulder: "Maybe your failure in autumn recruitment is due to a problem with your resume. How about you go to a big factory for an internship for a period of time to polish your resume?" I closed the door. The computer and breathing became easier: “No."
On the way back to the dormitory, the maple trees were turning red, the autumn breeze was slightly cool, and the small group of dim yellow dyed by the street lamp flickered on and off, which seemed to tell that people cannot have youth and the perception of youth at the same time.
Employment, postgraduate entrance examinations, studying abroad... …Facing graduation, too many people are pushed forward by the clock hand. I always want to make strides forward, and it’s best to race against time. When running, stay away from things that have nothing to do with further education or employment. Time is roughly divided into two categories - "valuable investment" and "meaningless waste".
Fortunately, the existence of this letter allowed me to spend a short time. After getting lost, I found my direction again.
Instead of following my friend’s advice to apply for an internship or overseas application, I moved the “battlefield” back to school. I opened the book I had put aside for a long time, observed the campus that I had walked through countless times but never stopped at, and lay on the lawn by the lake watching the cats sunbathing while letting go of those heavy "shoulds" and "musts." Finally, I found the best choice for me.
The windows of the study room in the library were not closed. I lay on the table and took a nap. The evening breeze carried the most beautiful sunset. The sun swept me away, and I seemed to have had a dream. The exciting years were fleeting, and the bell of the college entrance examination was still ringing in my ears. Are the four years of college destined to gradually become blurred in my mind?
Time, please walk a little slower. The roads and bridges in the school, the trees and birds by the lake, I want to keep you in my heart.
