Moody...self-righteous...don't even know what to do as a teacher.
Which teacher would call a student who smokes in the class to take a photo to show off? I've only seen her!
Absolutely ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous!
As for the fact that she withheld diplomas from students after graduation and asked students to go to her home to collect them, I was not as angry as the previous incident...
It’s hard to make it too clear what she meant... Didn’t you just want some "gifts" when you went to her house to receive your diploma...
So I didn't go get it, that's just my temper... But I got the admission notice from the university anyway, so naturally I don't need a high school diploma to prove my academic qualifications...
But what I know is that some students never received their diplomas...)
Well, children in junior high school will always develop the purest love... Forget it, I will skip this and forget about it. Now that I think about it, there is nothing else but regret... maybe there is still a little bit of unrequited love.
The pain...
The teachers I met in junior high school were very strict, but I am always grateful to them.
Because their severity has nothing to do with tyranny...their severity is full of love...
It was the kind of kindness I had hoped for countless times in my dreams... Well, I didn't lack love while growing up.
Although not all of this love comes from parents...
They showed me no pity, but simple kindness.
They properly maintained my self-esteem as a child and protected everything I had as a child.
I still can't forget it...
(Of course I was beaten by the teacher... and the beating was not light... There is still my name and three and a half Chinese characters on the desk of the head teacher...
If you make a mistake once, go to the office and write it down...
But even if my palms are swollen and I can’t pick up things, my heart is still warm... Although it’s a bit strange to say this, but in fact it is like that...)
It seems that I have talked too much about my past...
Let’s talk about recent times...
My father has a bad temper, or a very bad temper...
Over the years, his salary has rarely been used at home, and my mother and I don't know where he has spent it...
But during the four years I was in college, my expenses and tuition fees were all provided by my father.
As for supporting the family, I shouldn't say anything more. That is a matter between my father and my mother.
This is probably one of the reasons why my mother is dissatisfied with my father...
My father is a person who gets angry when others make him angry.
And the target of his anger was always his family... I still remember his ferocious expression when he picked up a very strong square stool and threw it at me, as if I had ruined his life...
Maybe if it weren't for me, he and my mother would have other choices in life...
That stool is very strong. My grandfather hired a carpenter to make it. That stool is probably older than me... Even now, the stool is still very strong... It can allow someone who is 1.82 meters tall and weighs 190 pounds to stand on it.
Stick the Spring Festival couplets steadily...
However, in fact, I was only more than an hour late when I got home...
And I just spent time walking slowly on the street, because I hated going back to that "home" where I had no personal space at all...
This kind of thing doesn't happen only after conflicts break out at home...
Even when I was younger and disturbed his play, I would occasionally get punished...but at that time, he still had some tricks up his sleeve...
At least I won't get hurt or anything...
(Being angered is not something that only happens on my father’s side. It’s not uncommon on my mother’s side either.
But this should be a mistake that parents make... After all, parents don't need to take any parent qualification certificate...
I also understand that no one is perfect.
But I really can’t forget that critical strike from the square stool, and it’s even hard for me to find an excuse to convince myself to forget it…)
I can now understand the pressure in his heart at that time. After all, not to mention that my family’s affairs at that time caused a storm in the city, it was considered a social death of my father in front of all his relatives...
But for this matter, understanding is understanding, and forgiveness is forgiveness...
I can never mention it again, but don’t expect me to forgive you when you talk about it...
I can understand my mother's resentment towards my father... After all, if a person is forced to make such a choice, no matter how resentful he is, it is justified...
As for my father's resentment towards my mother, I can't understand it...
Although "home" has come to mean home over the years... I can't do anything about the conflict between them.
When facing the conflict between them, I seemed to be the same helpless child who could only stare blankly at the mess and pool of blood everywhere.
Too scared to even cry loudly...
This is probably real PTSD...
My parents successfully made me afraid of marriage...
The reason is very simple, because I found that my personality is somewhat similar to that of my father.
And I have personally experienced all the harm caused by this personality...
So I probably chose the stupidest approach, which is "no beginning, no end"...
In this case, I probably won’t have the process of hurting others...
From the beginning to the end, I just hope that I will not hurt others. It would be better if I can avoid being hurt by others...
When I look back, it's hard to recall the face of the girl who was waiting under the tree.
No one will wait around forever...
But some things cannot disappear, and may stay with you until you enter the coffin, and then be buried deep with yourself...
Ah...because I've been talking about a lot of family matters lately.
Although I feel like I shouldn’t say this at this time to make everyone feel bad...
But this story is over 3,000 words long, so I am somewhat reluctant to delete it.
Just post it for everyone’s reference...
The lives of happy people seem to be the same, but each of the miserable people is miserable in his own way...
If you encounter anything unhappy, please remember that there is still an unlucky guy like me who is working hard to live.
Frustration will leave traces, and suffering is not worthy of praise.
But after suffering, you have to keep moving forward no matter what.
Maybe one day, if I am unlucky enough, I can meet another person who can give me the courage to face all difficulties?
Life continues, breathing has not stopped.
At least I can look forward to tomorrow.
…
…
Thank you readers for being willing to waste a little time reading my ramblings.
Thanks!
Chapter completed!