How do you think that children who have to do with words are not happy

That's because you don't understand.

A real person who writes.

It's all bland and melancholy.

They can smile.

It's just that they're not happy.

The character of the little four twins is destined to have some people like the landlord, who can only see his criticized side.

And I can't see the deep sadness hidden in the seemingly gorgeous but deep words.

You think he's contrived.

It's because you don't understand.

You don't understand. Of course.

I don't understand either. But.

I at least learned to understand.

It's just that people who play with words tend to experience the sorrow in more detail. Others may not think about it so much, for so long, so deeply, but they have to think about it. Some people who are already living a much better life than many people are often bleeding and grieving, most of them are not blessed.

There is too much happiness and it is too easy to obtain, and I can't help but appreciate sorrow as a kind of happiness.

Not necessarily. The child is not a fish, and you know the joy of fish.

There is a poem in the Southern Song Dynasty, the brand is called "Ugly Slave", and the first half of the Que wrote: The young man does not know the taste of sorrow, falls in love with the floor, falls in love with the floor, and is worried about the new words.

In fact, there are very few people who write articles without pretentiousness, and no one will write articles exactly according to their hearts.

Maybe everyone has a hurt in their heart, but someone is willing to say it.

It turns out that children who are touched by words are never happy, and their happiness is like that of playful children, wandering to the light of day, wandering to the light of day but refusing to return.

Occasionally seeing this sentence, my heart is inexplicably sad.

Write down a large section of emotion, and then counter it to a character that has been constructed out of thin air.

I'm neurotic, lingering on my own story.

I can't write well-behaved words, only the tedium of large sentences, such as my life, redundant and extended.

I never denied my pessimism, so I became more and more messy and miserable in my life.

When I can't even cry freely, I can only indifferently witness my own numb face in the mirror.

In the choice between survival and death, there is no margin.

Smile with people, and have declined. I forgot the initial impression, and I couldn't find the final way out.

I thought I had lost the sign, but I was just stubborn and refused to move forward.

Time keeps moving, but I leave my lack of self-care in the moment of memory and no longer move.

It turns out that when I laugh, it really doesn't mean I'm happy.

People who like words or literature like to think, are emotionally rich and delicate, and are prone to sentimentality, but they don't have much of a chain of ties with happiness or not. Whether or not to be happy depends on whether a person's attitude is positive, optimistic and open-minded.

Girls who like words are happy, but sometimes they can't tell the difference between real life and life in books, so they make a mess of real life.

No, that sentence is Guo Jingming's deception, after all, he writes books.

I'll tell you for sure: no!