我以为能够让人生变成一个果园 ，硕果累累。然而当岁月走过，只剩下一片荒凉 。在岁月留下的荒凉中，我踽踽独行 ，寻找着想象幻灭的原因。
我以为拥有了许多朋友，却发现只有几个才称得上朋友。我喜欢交朋友，也乐意帮助朋友 ，不知不觉就结交了很多朋友 。然而，那些我曾经帮助过的朋友，在我需要帮助的时候 ，却全都找借口拒绝了。反而是那些帮助过我的朋友，主动向我伸出了援手。谁都可以锦上添花，但并不是谁都能做到雪中送炭 。原来，朋友贵在真心 ，而非数量。只是我明白得太迟，没能结交更多真朋友，却被那些所谓的朋友伤害了许多次。
我以为自己成长了许多 ，却发现自己依然幼稚 。经历了一些挫折，就觉得自己比同龄人成熟许多，常常觉得身边的同龄人很幼稚。然而 ，当失败一次次地袭来，我渐渐招架不住，忍不住逃避 ，想要有一个人保护我 、帮助我、安慰我。我突然发觉这种想法与小孩子受委屈跑去跟父母哭诉一点儿差别也没有，谈何成熟？原来，我的阅历还不够 ，算不上成熟，或许只是比别人更容易忧郁，就误把忧郁当作成熟，其实还没有真正长大。
我以为曾经爱得铭心刻骨 ，却发现不过是一段轻描淡写的时光 。对爱情还懵懵懂懂的时候，我谈了一次恋爱。我全心投入这种新鲜又奇怪的感觉，甘心为之付出 ，期盼得到回报，但换来的是一次几乎是毁天灭地的伤痛。爱过了，痛过了 ，我以为这就是爱情，更有一种对爱情莫名的畏惧 。然而，如今我回首那段时光 ，才发现那所谓的爱不过是新鲜感，那所谓的痛不过是不甘心，就像是小孩子得到了一件新玩具 ，刚开始喜欢得不得了，渐渐就腻了，但又不愿意给别人，明明是自己先厌倦了 ，还要怪别人弄坏了。我怀念的不是那段爱情，而是那时候受伤的自己，只记得那种复杂的感觉 ，遗忘了曾爱过的是谁。
或许是我太擅长欺骗自己，看不清事情的本质，很容易就先入为主 ，给自己一个错误的结论 。岁月的流逝，让我看清了许多事情并非我所想象的样子。事情并不仅仅只有我看到的那一面，还有很多面是我没有看到的。曾经的我 ，对任何事情都有着好奇心，对任何事情都有着天真的想象，甚至自以为已经看懂了这个世界 。然而 ，岁月一再地让我在疼痛中明白，这个世界很美好，但也很复杂，复杂到可能我这辈子都无法弄懂。
过去的我 ，按照自己的想象，努力地为自己建造一个果园，期待着未来能够迎来丰收。可是 ，不知是我想象得太美好，还是我努力得不够，岁月没能让我如愿以偿 。不仅没能让我迎接丰收 ，还让我面对一片荒凉。岁月留下的荒凉似乎在告诉我，想要丰收没那么简单，继续努力吧。
I thought it would make life into a orchard, fruitful. However, when the years have passed, there is only one desolate. In the desolate of the years, I am alone, looking for the reason for imagining illusion.
I thought I had many friends, but I found that only a few were called a friend. I like to make friends, I am happy to help friends, I have made many friends unconsciously. However, those that I have helped, but when I need help, I have to reject the excuse. Instead, those friends who have helped me, take the initiative to extend their assistants. No one can add flowers on the brown, but no one can do it in the snow. It turns out that friends are expensive, not quantity. Just I understand too late, I can't make more real friends, but I have hurt many times by the so-called friends.
I thought that I have grown a lot, but I found myself naive. I have experienced some setbacks, I feel that I have many mature than the same age, often feel that the same age around you is naive. However, when failed, I couldn't stay in again, I couldn't help but escape, I want to have someone to protect me, help me, comfort me. I suddenly found this idea and the child to get rid of the boy and flexed with my parents. I didn't have a difference. Why mature? It turns out that my experience is not enough, I can't make maturity, maybe just more and more is easier than others, I am mistaken, and I haven't really grown up.
I thought that I used to love my mind, but I found it just a prematured time. When I understand it, I talked about a love. I have been in the hearts of this fresh and strange feeling, I am willing to pay, I hope to get a return, but in exchange, it is almost almost destroyed the pain. I have loved, I have passed, I thought this is love, and there is a fear of inexplicable love. However, now I will look back at that time, I found that the so-called love is just a freshness, that the so-called hurt is not willing, just like a child, I have got a new toy, I just started to like it, gradually Tired, but I don't want to give others, I am too tired of myself, but I have to blame others. I miss the love, but I was injured in that time, I only remember the complicated feeling, I forgot who had loved who had loved.
Maybe I am too good at deceptionI don't know the essence of things, it is easy to win, give yourself a wrong conclusion. The birth of the years, let me see a lot of things, not what I think. Things don't just only have the side I have seen, there are still many faces I have not seen. I used to have a curiosity for anything, and I have a naive imagination for anything, and even think that I have already understood this world. However, the years have repeatedly understood in the pain, this world is very beautiful, but it is also very complicated, complicated to might I can understand my life.
In the past, according to his own imagination, we strive to build an orchard for himself, and look forward to ushered in the future. However, I don't know if I imagine it is too beautiful, or I work hard enough, and the years have not allowed me to pay. Not only did I not let me welcome the harvest, but also let me face a desolate. The desolate of the years seems to tell me, I want to harvest is not so simple, continue to work hard.
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