this sadness has nothing to do with feelings

may be unique disappointment , and perhaps just tired , maybe not real
the reality of life makes me depressed

emotional,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], sensitive heart began to miss some of the past, all the
long time not so tranquil
this sadness has nothing to do with feelings ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], but a state of mind ... ...

think about the past ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and now everything is just going through some of their own must-see on the road Landscape
sad sad music can make the pain into your instant The bottom of my heart

think of the past , present and future

While listening Several times

song with a bit of sadness.
these can occasionally come to grief Point, but these need their own pay
so I do not know what will happen tomorrow , do not know how to go tomorrow , tomorrow, do not know how to live

morning
any A situation will not matter absolutely no solution , have to do is make a choice , and believe in your choice
So the mood of a morning crash in an instant complete failure

becautilize life is changing every minute, unlike in the past

sadness of the past , lost the future
suddenly become unable to grasp the feeling of everything

grief can demonstrate a real
front of the computer quietly listening to a song trance.
not to mention how much I like that song ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], but coincident with a Qingsu
sad fact is not necessarily caused by damage

everything is illusory ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], can not control

but still could not help but feel bad

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

Forty-three years seems like a long time to remember the name of a mere1)acquaintance. I have forgotten the name of an old lady, who was a customer on the paper route in my home town when I was a twelve-year-old boy. Yet it dwells2)in my memory that she taught me a lesson in forgiveness that I shall never forget.
On a winter afternoon, a friend and I were throwing stones onto the slanted3)roof of the old lady's house from a spot near her backyard. The object of our play was to observe how the stones changed to missiles4)as they rolled to the roof's edge and shot out into the yard like comets5)falling from the sky. I found myself a perfectly smooth rock and threw it out. The stone was too smooth, however, so it slipped from my hand as I let it go and headed straight not for the roof but for a small window on the old lady's back porch6). At the sound of fractured7)glass, we knew we were in trouble. We turned tail8)and ran faster than any of our missiles flew off her roof.