Take advantage of the college entrance examination to pay tribute to our not-so-good youth.

it is another year when the college entrance examination is on the screen, and countless people take the opportunity to nostalgia, recall, and lament their youth, just as the old joke said:

"after so many years, I wish I could wake up and find that I was still lying on the desk in middle school and hit on the head by the chalk thrown by the teacher."

I don't know what you think, but when I saw this sentence, I broke out in a cold sweat.

-God help me not to call back and live it all over again!

because I really don't know what's good about youth.

I don't know who was the first to eat crabs, but the fact is, when thousands of years of brilliant world civilization have been handed down to me, "youth" seems to have been touted by various artists as a particularly remarkable thing. This thing is like "love", everyone has, but no one can say it is good, and in the same way, they all look more beautiful in memories.

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countless people are willing to beautify their youth, so amateur youth movies with unstable cameras and amateur youth novels with unclear punctuation marks are popular in this era. In fact, you calm down and think, is your youth the same thing as the youth in movies, idol dramas and romantic novels?

*

in 2000, I was 14 years old, and I thought I was one of the luckiest people in the world-look, we welcomed the return of Hong Kong, we welcomed the return of Macao, we welcomed the new century that only happens once in a century and the millennium that happens only once in a thousand years, and we are so, so young.

but what is real youth? In other words, what is the youth of an adolescent woman who was born in an inland town in the south, is plain, her parents are laid off and her math grades are very shady?

it's completely different from what they told me that those great writers who have been dead for many years, whose names are as cool as Coca-Cola and praise the world, reach out and beg again and again in novels, plays, and poems. something willing to exchange their soul with the devil. Nor is it like what the first batch of youth novels, new concept essays, or 50 cents of girl comics in a rental bookstore showed me.

-of course, since this is, after all, my youth, my youth and yours, it is best not to describe it too badly with too much personal feelings. It's like being a diner chewing food in his mouth can't describe the food on the table as tasting like poop.

so, please allow me to objectively use one word to describe our youth, that is, boring.

it is a room of less than ten square meters, with an out-of-date imitation crystal chandelier popular in the 1990s and a complete set of brown-red wood furniture. On the left side of the room is a desk and a single bed, and on the right is a large wardrobe with clothes for the whole family. I hate this wardrobe-- God knows how possessive a girl in high school is. Given how little she can actually possess-- in the only space where she can exercise sovereignty, there is one that doesn't belong to me. And it often causes my mother to break in and peek into what I'm doing under the pretext of taking clothes. This huge piece of furniture is like a metaphor for my youth: it has an unpopular shape and is placed in an unpopular position, although it covers the largest area, but all I can do with it is to use one of the boxes of double-door cabinets in the middle.

right here, between the four walls, trapped between uncomfortable desks and chairs, my youth goes by day by day. They are used to do homework, recite words, take exams, worry about grades, even read a novel secretly, tucked between the five drawer cabinets and the low cabinets, and hide them at the slightest sound, and then suppress the wild heartbeat while pretending to check math problems.

and walk out of these four walls, are the other four walls, expanded to 100 square meters, but actually give you less space: a single table and armchair one meter square, about 40 copies that are roughly similar to you, gender and face blurred replicas, a place called the school. Youth is even less valuable here. For us, every day in school is a new and only day, but for our teachers, on the contrary, they are thrown into the time whirlpool of an infinite single cycle, facing the same age at regular intervals, the same height, the same fearless eyes of the ignorant, telling the same boring lessons. This Groundhog Day-like plot makes them feel desperate and generously returns to us-for teachers, youth doesn't need to be bright and good-looking, so it must be packed into sack-like cheap polyester sports uniforms, hair cut like Liu Hulan, carrying every girl with red lips and white teeth suspected of makeup into the hallway to scold them as red-painted toilets. Such youth.

of course, love is not allowed. Although urban legends such as kissing in the bicycle shed after self-study with so-and-so are always spread in the small groups where girls go to the toilet together, in fact, none of us have and know very well that we will never have such a chance. For a girl who is reincarnated in a big province of the college entrance examination and has enough scores to enter a local ordinary university, grades are the only purpose of youth for the 211 entrance examination for students in Guangzhou. We are so sophisticated, serious, young and mature, posting the study schedule of that month on the desk, the diary is full of grade rankings, and we are always frowning on the way to dinner or PE class. I haven't looked at any boy around me.

of course, even so, I have people I like, or people. At that time, the Internet was not yet popular, and the TV set was the most interesting thing we could get in touch with. At that time, I had just seen the Legend of the Mermaid, which wasZheng Yijian, who was fluttering in white inside, was fascinated and prayed for a replay on the cable station every day. Then there is David Duchuni, the protagonist in the X Files. If Zheng Yijian is the dream god of the little girl, then David Duchuni is my aesthetic founder from adolescence to the present: long legs, puppy eyes, wide shoulders, slightly sturdy, sincere and flirtatious. I spent a lot of time making up love stories with them as heroes chasing me around the world (God bless the man who invented the word "Mary Sue") and spilled dog blood all over the limited life gap between the exercise book and the examination paper. Looking back many years later, it's not a love story at all, even by the most stereotyped standards. a bear student who has nothing to do but study frantically wants to escape from the four walls, big or small.

but still nothing happened.

*

then comes the arrival of the twenties, along with college, and the vast expanse of unexperienced time that universities contain that we call adult-like life. In order not to waste the precious time that seemed to be the tail of youth, my friends and I did everything we could-climb the roof to see the fireworks, evade tickets to take the green train to Guizhou, go camping, brush the night, and light a bonfire. to embrace strangers on New year's Eve. But in addition to these wonderful things as long as four or five days and as short as a few hours, we are still the ordinary people who eat a bowl of shredded mustard powder at the back door of the school with their schoolbags on their backs. On summer nights we carry buckets to take a shower in an unlit toilet, and the young body of a 20-year-old girl praised by Goethe is steaming in the smell of soap and the peculiar pickled smell of sewers. I know this is the greatest waste of this body, and on such a night I should kiss and risk having sex, and challenge the most incredible things in the most incredible places in the world. But I have no choice, because the environment and family are asking us to be ordinary people. So I just obediently took a bath with a bucket, then bought a cup of frozen pearl milk tea with wet hair, and walked to the evening study.

as for the accessories from youth, the exuberant, restless, energy that doesn't know where to vent, we all dedicate it to self-righteous (pseudo) rock music. At that time, people began to listen to the Beatles, listen to goatskin, listen to May Day, and tell themselves to have a rock spirit, but none of us know what the real rock spirit is. Love and peace, anti-war freedom, all these empty slogans float above our twenty-year-old heads, but never fall on our shoulders and heels. All we know is that the lead singer should be handsome, the guitarist should be handsome, the bassist should have long hair, and I can't see what the drummer is, so whatever. Until one day more than a decade later, my old classmate and former rock teammate Miss Ji came to live in my rental house. I sent her to wash the cup so that she could drink the freshly frozen pineapple beer. So Miss Ji rinsed the cup that had just drunk milk with a current that was not much thicker than the data line, and then she could taste the faint smell of milk in the pineapple beer. I angrily criticized Miss Ji and asked her to open a large amount of water to wash the cup carefully. We were not short of a few water money, but Miss Ji turned around and showed her heartfelt and genuine worried expression:

"really?" Is there much groundwater in Beijing? Has desertification been controlled? Is there any water available for future generations? "

then I suddenly realized that this may be the rock spirit, the rock spirit that finally falls on the shoulders and heels. Although we are the same age, Miss Ji has succeeded in keeping rock'n 'roll with the kindness and innocence of her youth. As for me, I am just a traitor who lives in the present, crude and shallow, and packs a lot of future generations for a cup of non-milky pineapple beer.

of course I'm not ashamed of it either.

when I really embraced the adult world, I found that the adult world is not so hypocritical, boring and scary.

the first challenge I face after graduation is to support myself. As the most basic survival needs of human beings, this challenge has undoubtedly played an important role in my success in overcoming introversion, picky eating, secondary diseases, uncertainty and self-righteousness. In order to support myself, I began to learn to communicate, to learn a sense of humor, to learn to cooperate with people I didn't like, to be scolded, to be looked down upon, and to get up in the same place as if nothing had happened. In youth novels, the characters of adults are always written as shallow, frivolous and cunning, and when I really grow up to be an adult, I know that this is just the acrid jealousy of junior high school teenagers for what they cannot do. When we are young, we are always waiting, waiting for Prince Charming, waiting for the savior, waiting for Bole, waiting for miracles, and this is not the privilege of youth, it is just that we have limited ability but desire to be wonderful, and do not bother to make any active efforts to escape. I remember when I was still studying, Wang Shuo once scolded our so-called post-80s generation in an interview: "shouting about being young all day is nothing. Who hasn't been young? have you ever been old?"

at that time, I was so arrogant that I only took it as a joke. I thought it was because the old man could not eat the grapes and said the grapes were sour. Now, in the process of moving away from youth step by step, I gradually accept that I am not the protagonist of this world, or even a supporting role, but one of the 7 billion passers-by, no more than me, no less dead, so I should strive to survive. In this process, I have a career to fight for, friends from all over the world, love that is easy to get together and break up at the beginning of equality, and the so-called network of people who help each other. Even if there is no exciting element in the process, the pace is slow and the details are boring, it just stumbles. Such a life experienceIt's like cultivating a tree, watching it pull out new branches and blossom and spread its leaves every day. For others, this is the most common tree, which is everywhere along the kerb, but to me, it is a strong backbone to resist all the nothingness in life.

so now, maybe I'll tell you what I already know-youth is not a commendatory word, just like old age is not a derogatory word. I like my growing maturity, and this exclusive maturity polished in time, give me ten more times of youth will not change.

I wish all students can plant their own trees and live their own ordinary and great lives after the college entrance examination.