Essay on the third year of junior high school The Remembrance of Youth Essay on the memories of yo

We met here that summer, and we understood each other so well, and our faces were full of immaturity. We're growing up happily here. We pray that we will be able to maintain such a carefree smile next year. Essay Network Junior High School 700 Words Essay.

Joy, tears, pain. The help of my classmates and friends made me forget how salty tears are, and it was a sunny day when you were up. It is also a fantasy that we roam the world, even if the whole world changes, but we never change to your brave self, to give you my heart, this love is fresh at any moment, because of your company, how bitter it has become sweet, open your eyes and see eternity.

Essay 700 words.

No matter how big the wind and waves, I will go forever, our love is inlaid in the commemorative book of youth, to you and my heart as a commemoration of this love, you open it at any moment, fresh, with my company, how bitter it has become sweet, open your eyes and see eternity, give me your heart to commemorate my dream, with your blessing can be complete, no matter how big the wind and waves, I will be gone, our love is inlaid in the commemorative book of youth. 300 word essay.

After March, we embarked on our own journeys, although we have experienced different stories, but I still remember the agreement on campus, and I want to hear you say that you want to take me to roam the world, even if the whole world changes, it will not change to your brave self.

Memories of youth

Loneliness is the carnival of one person, and carnival is the loneliness of a group of people.

Unexpectedly, a few years later, I became more and more profound about this sentence of the old class. High school is a time that is hard to forget, more than a thousand days and nights, I never remember, just rushed over. Or maybe it has not begun, it has already ended, perhaps it is too late to understand.

In short, nostalgic and suffocating. I didn't expect that when I sat in the dormitory of the university, I had seen countless scenes in my dreams, but I was knocking on the dream of myself.

In this life, there are a little regrets. Before leaving, I don't know what is the most painful wound in your heart at the moment when you close your eyes, the years have not healed, but only covered with a layer of dust, just give us an illusion, this illusion gives us comfort. Some people say that when they arrive in college, they begin to learn to recall, recalling the immature bits and pieces of high school, but they ignore college, enter the society, and begin to recall college.

I can't help it, I always have to think about it, and when I think about it, I can't extricate myself. Yes, every time I see the back of the school uniform, I will think that it is still someone I know, and laugh at myself, how is it possible, it has been many years since I graduated. Graduation, these two words, which are more important and cannot be measured.

How I longed to graduate, to be able to escape from high school, to be able to squander a lot of my youth freely. Now think about it, how ridiculous, even if you graduate, even if you are free, there is no longer that class of thirty-six high school, there is no longer that group of people, a group of people who accompany you from strange to familiar enough to be able to cry and laugh with you without the slightest decoration in front of them, no more, no longer able to meet. It turns out that parting has achieved graduation, and graduation has disguised parting.

The longer the time passes, the clearer the memory of the past, the more you torture yourself, and there is always everything. A casual start is coupled with an inadvertent one'Farewell, how many stories are there in the confused years, I want to describe, forget it, things have long been different. I don't know what kind of mood to hold in nostalgia, whether it's joy or sorrow, or numbness.

Some people say that people who often recall the past are because there are people or things in the past that they will never forget. I'm not sure, at the age of seventeen or eighteen ignorant, how much inner struggle it takes to fall in love with someone, it should be as clean and pure as the morning breeze and the breeze.

The classroom windows are bright and clean, the blackboard is spotless, the desks are neat, and the floor is clean, as if we have just been cleaned at the teacher's request. We sat upright in the classroom, preparing for the teacher to come to class, and I sneaked a few more glances at the same table and found that she was reading the extracurricular book with her head down. It was the height of summer, and that year was a thing of the past.