Ask for an essay called the first level of junior high school that I didn t understand

Turns out I didn't understand.

Love, a simple Chinese character, can easily find its annotation in the dictionary, I thought that I could easily understand the meaning of love after learning to look up the dictionary, but I didn't expect that even now I am just a beginner in love, and I haven't even entered the door of love, it is far heavier than I thought.

When I was a child, the most remembered thing about my father was the beating and scolding of me, so my father's gentle moments towards me were regarded as the most precious treasure and treasured in the deepest part of my heart. When I was a child, I was not as quiet as I am now, and I always liked to play with some older brothers and sisters than me, so wrestling became the most common thing, but I didn't dare to tell my father every time, because what I got was not gentle words, but a scolding and a strange liquid that was painted purple. Every time my father found the wound, I dodged and refused to take the medicine, but the next day, I found that there were traces of medicine on the wound, and there was a scar, and later I learned that my father was afraid of my pain and secretly took medicine at night, at that time I just liked the father who silently medicated me at night, I thought that was father's love.

I thought that my father's love was a very precious thing to me, but I don't know when it became so worthless in my eyes, and every time my father came back from working in other places, I would not take the initiative to call him, take the initiative to speak, "Dad.""It's a name that has become a bargain that only needs to be exported. After the third year of junior high school, I had to stay at a relative's house because of the evening self-study, thinking that the relationship with my father would always be normal, but the various inconveniences at the relative's house made me miss the father who worked hard for me all the time, and what really touched me the most was that public class. The content of the open class is very simple, just a reading, the article is called "I Just Want to Be Close to You", when I read that my son trimmed his father's nails, my childhood memories became clearer, but the roles were reversed, because it was always my father who trimmed my nails ......Towards the end of this class, the teacher gave us the song of Wang Feng - Dad, I didn't care about it, but when I heard "Dad, I miss you", I have always had strong self-control, but my tears burst out of my eyes, and those memories that were put in the bottom corner of my heart also gushed out, about to drown me, I realized that father's love is far less cheap than I imagined, because at this moment my heart seems to be as heavy as lead.

When I was a child, I thought that my father's love was my father's rare tenderness to me, but later I understood that my father's love was not only gentle, but even the beating and scolding was also a deep love, and now it is even clearer that my father's love also stems from my deep thoughts, and maybe what I know now is only a little bit.

I don't understand. The leaves of the streets are always falling, and they are not swept away. Lying on his back in the middle of the road, he passed away quietly. I really don't understand why the big tree gave so many annoying residual leaves.

It's like I don't understand why the teacher sent a few of us to be with this endless fallen leaves.

Elementary school was a leisurely time, but the week with the leaves was so rushed. This is an event held by the school – street sweeping. It is a great honor that several of us have been given this "rare opportunity".

At first, we were full of freshness. There is no garbage on the street, but the leaves are you "looking up and not seeing, looking down". I really can't help them, in this thick autumn, it is their world.

At the end of the day, a few of us got together to compare who had the most bubbles on their hands. You can't compare the winners and losers! "This street is not my street, why let us come.

The classmates muttered, full of complaints, but also endured emotions. None of us were excellent children, and we couldn't get into the top ten, let alone in the grades. The top players in the class who sit firmly in the country are beyond our reach.

Of course, the teacher asked us to accompany him, just like the analogy, they are flowers, we are just a few green leaves with a web, who cares? Thinking about it, my nose was sour. The teacher's preference is easy to understand.

The next few days were spent in sourness.

It's fast and fast in a week. Sweeping away the last fallen leaves, we dragged our brooms to the classroom. I saw the teacher standing at the door of the office, maybe waiting for someone. Not us anyway.

I didn't expect it to be us. She gave us a few pieces of candy and asked if we were tired. She said she wanted us to learn something other than textbooks.

It turned out that I didn't understand, and I didn't understand the teacher's preference, just like I didn't understand that not every fallen leaf is full of depression and depression, and the moment it falls, it is printed with the seal of death. Passing away is not for the hope of the next green leaf. I didn't understand that falling red is not a ruthless thing.

As I got older, I didn't understand many things.

I don't understand why I like to walk alone on the narrow sidewalks on both sides of the road, and there are tall and thin trees planted on the sidewalks, maybe I'm nostalgic for the place I've been for 12 years, or maybe I'm nostalgic for the cherry blossom avenue, or maybe I like that kind of street because I'm lonely, to be honest, I really don't understand.

I don't understand why I like to wander the streets with a small umbrella on a rainy day. I guess that's because I like the faint smell of earth in the rain! Maybe the gloomy sky was very close to my state of mind!

Or maybe I've had too many good memories on rainy days! Seriously, I don't understand.

I don't understand why I don't like "martial arts" anymore, but I almost fall madly in love with "Detective**" and soak in Conan Doyle's stories all day long, or I am addicted to Hitchcock's **. Maybe it's because I've watched too much martial arts, I'm tired of it, and I want to change something fresh, or maybe the logic of martial arts is not strong or it's not as logical as detectives! I really don't understand.

I don't understand why I fell in love with something like Peking Opera that is old-fashioned in the eyes of others. Maybe the "rhyme" and "god" of Peking Opera attracted me, or maybe I just like the content of Peking Opera, and the characters in it are just quiet brothers! I don't understand!

I still don't understand why I like to talk to myself, maybe I don't have friends, maybe I don't have the object to talk to, maybe I think I'm the object of talking, my friends maybe there are other things, I just don't understand!

I don't understand, I really don't understand? Maybe! Or maybe I already understood, it's just that I just don't want to say it!

Some are what I think I understand, though. It turns out that I don't understand anything!

But maybe liking doesn't need a reason, doesn't it?