喜悦Joy
晚上回到房间,迎面而来的是一阵喜悦。是的,喜悦。那是一种残留在房间空气里中,即将见到爱人充满希望的喜悦。那收拾行李挑选衣服,搜刮每个角落可以带给你的小玩具的情景仍在眼前。回忆那时愚蠢的想法,竟然也会让自己落泪呢。
有时候记忆真是一种该死的东西,他把好的坏的,喜悦的伤感的一股脑全混在了一切。让你分辨不清,剥离不开。最后无奈,哭着笑,又笑着哭。
Coming back to my room at night, what met me was a rush of joy. Yes, joy. The kind of joy left lingering in the air of the room, the hopeful joy of being about to see the one you love. The scene is still right before my eyes: packing the luggage, picking out clothes, scouring every corner for little toys to bring you. Remembering the foolish thoughts of that time can, somehow, still bring me to tears.
Sometimes memory really is a damnable thing. It takes the good and the bad, the joyful and the sorrowful, and dumps them all into one tangle, so you cannot tell them apart, cannot pry them free. In the end, helpless, you laugh through your tears, and cry through your laughter.
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