读《那些回不去的年少时光》的时候,我17岁。依然记得那个阳光明媚的暑假,我捧着被阳光划成一格一格的书页,心酸地翻过一页又一页。小小的心脏,因突然而来的悸动狂跳不止,有对琦琦受冷落后的不满,有对张骏变心后的愤恨,有对完美女生关荷的嫉妒……那些曾经青春时的狂傲与不羁,自卑与怯懦,阳光与甜蜜,反反复复在眼前一一掠过。回忆像一部旧电影,虽然泛黄却不失过往的青春与甜蜜。我没有一口气把两本书读完,而是在每天最闲适的午后时光里,牺牲掉亲爱的午觉,冲一杯清咖或花 I am 17 years old when I read “the young days I can not get back to.” Still remember that sunny summer vacation, I was holding the pages of the sun into a grid, sadly turned page after page. Little heart, because of sudden throbbing more than crazy, there Chi Chi cold after the dissatisfaction with Zhang Jun resentment after the change of heart, there is jealous of the perfect girl off ... ... those who had been young Pride and unruly, self-esteem and cowardice, sunshine and sweetness, one by one in passing over. Memories like an old movie, though yellowed without losing past youth and sweetness. I did not finish the two books in one breath, but in the most comfortable afternoon every day, sacrificed my dear afternoon, washed a cup of coffee or flowers