I'm drunk

The storm, the biggest in May. The heart is blue on the balcony, so that the splattered raindrops are drenched with wet shirts... one night with wind and no sleep. Morning, rain. Heart blue running in the morning. Passing through the forest, I couldn't help but stop walking, heartache. The red medicine, which was so dazzled by last night's heavy rains, and covered with green insects, was so profoundly destructive that it reminded me of Qin's “flying in the dark”. Heart blue likes pills. The Mayflower God, the Seven Night Flowers, unlike the Western roses of love, has no medicine but the tenderness of romance and one other heart. “To leave”, so tangled, so poetic. It's blue in the heart, and it's one person. My sister-- the rain. My sister is a gentle and beautiful girl with a dream-like big eyes, long hairs that are black and smooth, and a face that fascinated, always so tender. She's my neighbor's sister, but she's always been kind to me. She goes to school with me every day and walks on the mountain trails, and my sister grunts softly at the music of the wild, in the morning and in the light of the sun, as if a silent scroll was beautiful. She tutored me every day, when I felt that my sister was smarter than the teacher and that she could decipher the boring formula so softly. She was two years older, when I was nine, she was eleven. Gradually, we grew up and we went to the same high school. My sister still cares about my studies and my life. Because of their natural beauty, their talent is great, and their sister is the goddess in the eyes of the boy. Every time we take a break from the tree outside the campus, sister always takes out the love letters and gifts that we have received today and puts them in a small box and burys them under the tree with me. And then share with me the candy from the gifts received today. She went to the best university in the province, and she disappeared in my life, except for the holidays. I've played my life in learning, and there's only one goal, the university where the rain rains. The shower is my goddess. In the love I understand, she's always got grace. And We wrote a love letter sealed out of a box and buried secretly under a tree, and We decided to hand over to her my first love when I went to her university. And in the month of May, when We were raised three, the rain came back, and she became more and more full of glamorous glamour, as if it were a venom in the wind. In the evening, it was the big tree, and she brought with her my favorite fire, and a few bottles of wine. And We could smell the sorrow in her eyelids in the dark. Silence, I don't know how to say it. I was worried that the rain would be aberration, that it would just be boring to drink and that there would be no more grace. In that way, a bottle of a fountain sheds tears in two rows of raining silence. When she was drunk in the rain, she leaned on a stone beneath the tree, weeping, and my heart was cut like a knife with her twin shoulders. The petals of the pedestals fell on her skirt, and I don't think Shifu's in the Red House Dream will be able to match the scene. I held her shoulder and put her in my arms and let her wet her shirt with tears. At last, the mood of the rain stabilized, and I took away the tears on her red, red cheeks: “Sister, you used to listen to me, so let me share your sorrow today.” My heart was broken when the eyes of the rain dazzled and the cherry lips moved and told me about her situation. It turns out that a boy at the university was crazy about the rain, handsome and bright and well-off. He always changes the way to surprise the rain, but he's not vulgar. Finally, the rain fell in his stormy offensive, became his girlfriend and ate the forbidden fruit. A week ago, she found herself pregnant in the rain, and she was scared and told the boy, hoping that he would comfort her fear. But the boy appeared to be indifferent, without a word of comfort, without a warm embrace, leaving only a pile of cold money and a colder sentence: “Get rid of him.” I don't know what to say at this time, and I'm afraid of a heart that might accidentally hurt her again. All I can do is hold her in my arms, hold her in my arms, listen to the tears of my goddess in silence, at least to make her feel the temperature of my chest ... The rain of pregnancy is finally known to her parents, and the ending is thought out, sad, helpless. And as if the rain had become a man, it was silent and timid, and it was not going out, like a tattered flower. Then the Rainmaker left the city, and there was no news of it again... and today we meet again to remind me of the rain, this beautiful girl, my former goddess, where are you now? Are you still sad? Perhaps this life will never be seen again, but, in the rain, my sister, please forget the sad past and rise again. Life is still long, and perhaps we have to go through more suffering, but as long as our hearts remain alive, we can embrace tomorrow with the sun. The blue heart will bless you by the side of the pharmacist flower, pray for you, care for you in silence, and hold you in mind. O medicine, O my flower God, bless the sad girl who was drunk beside you, and live happily ever after. A beautiful woman like her will surely have a gentle man who deserves her. He will take care of her. He will embrace her. He will love her with his life。