Today is almost over. There must be some interesting stories around you this day. Why don't you keep a diary now? So what format does the diary have? The following are 8 lonely diaries I collected for you, for reference only, hoping to help you.

Lonely Diary 1 Every day when I get home, I will hear the "chirping" sound of the little guy "welcoming".

When doing homework or playing computer games, it keeps making noise. Sometimes we stop to play with it, and sometimes we shout impatiently, "smelly guy, it's noisy!" " "It will protest louder. When eating, we always cut a piece for the little guy to stop it. Every meal will be spent with noise ... this has become an eternal landscape.

From then on, we understood that if the home is unusually quiet, maybe we will not adapt.

I came home from school and opened the familiar door. There was silence in the room-no tweets from the little guy! I was surprised and looked around-empty birdcage, half-open cage door. My heart can't help trembling-dropping my schoolbag, rushing out of the house like crazy, looking at the dark night sky-the rain is getting heavier and heavier-impacting my empty mind again and again.

Tears, I don't know when, welled up in my eyes, merged with the rain and rolled down. The whole world was silent. Only the hateful rain is accompanied.

From the day you came, I began to understand.

Sooner or later, you will open the birdcage and seek freedom as they did before. Why should I stop you from seeking freedom? However, can your thin bodies withstand the downpour? You are spoiled. Can you find food and a home? Where are you now? I shouted in my mind over and over again, and only the dull rain responded to me. ...

Perhaps, there is no harm in their returning to nature. After a long time, I comforted myself. Looking at the river near home, it seems very happy, causing ripples. ...

Lonely Diary 2 —— Is Su Shi's Huizhou Tung Flower in bloom again? Somehow, this is a colorful scene. Broken hearts are anchored in this small sandbar, with the waning moon as a companion and the cold river as a friend. I am still a lonely and sad eye that you have no intention of glancing at, and I am still looking forward to your return from the sea.

The waning moon hung on the branches of tung trees, and it was covered with cold light and shadows. In the silent night, the yard is still full of candlelight. I still remember you reading in the yard at night. The sound of reading lit up the night, and the birds who came back overnight stopped to listen.

I've always admired your talent. I climbed over the fence and secretly listened to your poetry. You said softly, "What's life like everywhere? It should be Hong Fei stepping through the snow. " I learned to sing: "What's life like everywhere? It should be Hong Fei stepping through the snow. "

When chanting, it seems that the master is teaching his disciples. I'm sorry to see you study hard. Why are you so talented, but you are relegated to this position? Are you jealous of talented people? In a trance, I rang the window and you turned to look for it. And I, like that Hong Fei, disappeared into the paulownia forest.

A few eavesdropping, you have noticed, and know my life. I vowed not to marry, just to listen to your poetry every night. You never know, you were demoted to Qiongzhou. Qiongzhou, as soon as you hear it, is a distant name, separated by thousands of waters in Qian Shan and thousands of people. I know, I'll never see you again.

People are gone, and the building is still there; The leaves have fallen, but the tree is still there. I will still climb over the familiar fence and hide quietly outside the window, and your blue and straight figure will emerge in my memory. Flowers accompany butterflies, geese fly alone, and I wander alone in the dead of night. Memories of the heart are entangled in the past, fragmented, such as this white tung tree, haggard everywhere.

I made a sad and lonely rainbow, leaving my messy and directionless footprints in the ice and snow. Perhaps, in your heart, I am the lonely Hiro who flew in by chance, just a little accident. It is always sad when you think of it by chance.

A few years later, you tripped on this sandbar. Thank you. You remember me. Thank you for writing Operator for me, and let me spread this episode in your life to the world. However, these are not important, what matters is this feathery emotion.

After picking up all the cold branches, I still can't find a place to live. I circled around and finally landed on this small sandbar.

One side of the sandbar is connected with the sea, which is the place where people I miss day and night return; On the other side of the sandbar, there is a small village with a cold moon, a quiet yard and a loud sound of reading.

Lonely, the sandbar is cold.

Lonely Diary 3 Everyone's heart hides the past precipitated by years. -

Time is always confused between similar days and different moons, so our youth disappears. -

I want to write the preface of happiness with a smile, but I find that things have already changed. I began to miss you endlessly. -

That familiar song, long-lost face. -

After everything has passed, it has been carved into a picture by time, and it has become a beautiful moment. -

_ _ _ _ _ written in front

The memory left is clear. The feeling in my heart, stay tonight and enlarge it. -

one

Time freezes and the shadow of memory stretches. The feeling in my heart, stay tonight and enlarge it. -

I don't remember who haunts my life, giving me warmth and suffocating the surrounding air. The annual rings of time have passed in such a hurry that I feel sorry for all this in the future. I am already a gentle and indifferent woman, often lying in the sunset, thinking about a certain period of time. Precipitated in memory, leaving only your mottled beautiful image. That year, we grew up together, gave ourselves a very suitable reason, and then separated without nostalgia. They said, "Memories are the interweaving of beauty and pain." Yan Xi, what words should I use to describe this imperfect story, just like the injury I dare not touch in the air in early summer. The first time I met Yan Xi, it was on a tree-lined and grassy path. I still remember that you were wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of sky blue jeans just matched the sky in Chu Qing after the rain. It's just that my melancholy eyes made me look at you one more time. At that time, none of us greeted anyone, and no one left anyone's name, so we passed by. From then on, I began to miss that look. Perhaps because of fate, I came across your name, Yan Xi. After blossoming praises you, I decided to send you a short message. Yes, the beginning of the story predicts the end. You always have a kind of melancholy that I can't wear. You didn't say anything to me, not a word about your life or your relatives. Just after a week, you say "Yan, be my girlfriend". People always live without understanding, and everything is unexpected. A room, quiet, leaving only myself, but enough to meditate on my loneliness. I didn't refuse you. Whenever I see the faint sadness on your face, my heart hurts inexplicably. Maybe we don't know anyone, but we just need to rely on them. I have never seen your sunny smiling face, nor have I heard your tender and lingering concern. Only occasionally see the corners of the mouth rise with a snort of disdain. Perhaps, after a long time, your disdain has weathered. In front of you, I can laugh casually and make you laugh helplessly. . . . In this way, bits and pieces of memories pieced together the beautiful scenery of our year. We can't help feeling happy when spring is blooming and the grass is growing and the warblers are flying. I'm glad to forget everything that doesn't belong to me. Zoom in time, in the cool air, that early summer, watching your indifferent back, holding her hand and disappearing into my sight. I didn't cry like a child. However, I didn't look at you again. I didn't want my wound to flow in the blooming days of early summer and then spread constantly. I just turned around and cried alone. ...

Fallen leaves should also have a home. They can't "feel" sadness, but they bring this loneliness into the soil. -

Uh-

Standing in a corner, I miss some sadness. -

Youth, always inadvertently, let us wantonly show off to the fullest, those decadent years are even more dazzling in the beautiful just visiting, but everything is too late to grasp. Suffering too much, the pace is also much calmer, so I began to miss, silent, heartbroken. . . In a blink of an eye, with freshness and anxiety, I am a freshman. Looking at the gorgeous tall dormitory building, colorful playground, beautiful everywhere. All this made me forget the past for a while. I heard that "the past diluted by tears will be unforgettable." Yes, I thought everything was so insignificant, but after the tears, I had nothing strong to speak of. At night, I read other people's stories with books in my pocket. I just said to myself, because of intrigue and ambiguity, I am just a spectator after all. Whoever can understand the hurt in my heart will have an affair with me. I stand in the corner of youth, paying homage to the past melancholy with pale words. Like those who hurt spring and grieve for autumn, they smile and suffer with tears in their memories. This season is slipping away quietly. I hope that what I love and what I don't love are all good. -

In this strange city, many strangeness has become a habit. Still like a person, wandering in the crowd, absorbing the taste of the past. So silent. I'm just a passer-by enjoying the scenery, and I dare not stay too long where I stay. As time goes by, I find myself still standing at the crossroads, as if lost, and I don't know what to do next. I often wonder whether the sunset is so beautiful that it will reflect my inner trauma. Suddenly found that I still like listening to sad music as before, just because the past melodies can be found in the music, bit by bit, so lifelike, good and bad. I like reading sad articles, just because I like the true and false feelings revealed between the lines, like the heartbreaking feeling between the lines, and then cry into my dreams with stories. -

Leave, maybe I don't have any worries at this moment. I saw a light in the distant sky. In a clear time and space, I saw a piece of dust showing its wounds. Continue to wander around the bustling street corner, but never find the warmth that belongs to that time. -

three

""Spring, summer, autumn and winter, four seasons cycle. Leave good wishes in my heart. -

The days are getting white, and the rest are frozen illogically. When I opened the notebook to record the past again, the yellowed paper blurred my eyes, and those memories that came with the wind were just misplaced. There is only one front line left in the memory sculpture, which has messed up my tears. Why, the years flowing through your fingertips will be so unforgettable. I stand at this end of the world, looking at the end where you are, and the sky is hazy, blocking my view. The scar of time migration has broken the warmth I miss in the fleeting time. If everything is unexpected, just lie quietly in your heart. -

Lonely Diary 4 In all forms of life expression, diary is a special form. Its expresser is himself, and the reader is himself. It is a monologue of life, but it is the truest, freest and most sincere page in life.

Everyone has a desire to express himself. In books, periodicals and newspapers, in public places, in front of friends and relatives, when friends are lacking or far away, people can't talk about their inner desires or secrets. They often turn to diaries for help. So people with a little cultural knowledge have had the experience of keeping a diary.

Sometimes, I don't want to leave traces of my memories, sometimes I don't want to think for a short time, or because the depression of my heart needs an exit, the exhaustion of my heart needs a place to rest, and the loneliness of my heart needs a quiet and faithful shadow, so diary is the most reliable entrance to my soul privacy.

Diary is a mirror of life and a rare friend. It can activate the individual's inner self-awareness and desire to express, let people learn to express their thoughts and feelings, learn to focus on life, and carefully observe and reflect on themselves. Diary can activate vitality. The change of life may come from external stimulation, but it must be completed by psychological changes from the inside out.

No one studies the form of diary. Diary is the natural flow of life information. Its form is attached to water, its language is free, its length is unlimited, there is no pattern, there is no norm, only what has been done and what will be done. No form. What do you study?

However, the diary itself is dispensable, its super-utility, its irresponsible compulsion and the temptation of no entertainment often make people ignore its existence and do nothing about it. "There are many people who are good at the beginning, and those who are good at the end are fresh." This sentence sums up the laziness exposed by people writing diaries.

Nowadays, the popularity of the Internet has undoubtedly further pushed the diary to the edge of life and the gap of time. Blogs, journals and spaces that look like diaries have attracted the attention of many teenagers and some adults. But blogs are not diaries. Blog is bright, diary is restrained. Blogs are written for others, and the words are polished; Diary is written for myself, and the language is original. The purpose of a diary is simple, but what you write to others is hard to distinguish between true and false. And when we face the blog, there will be no shy smile, warm touch and sweet comfort when we face the diary.

Diary is a barometer of the mind. The depth and breadth of diary is the depth and breadth of mind.

Diary exists precisely because it does not pose obstacles to people at all levels, and because people rely on it spiritually and appeal to the soul. The human heart is a contradictory thing, sometimes it is wild, it likes excitement and prominence, but its most ordinary and profound need is a place to rest. Diary is a person's spiritual home. In our own diary world, we are clear-headed and self-aware.

After in-depth research, diaries still come from lonely situations. Even boys and girls are lively. He (she) keeps a diary, which must come from his (her) growing loneliness. For an adult, once he or she has no human interference and a clear view of the world and himself, he or she will have time and mood to keep a diary.

Not many people keep diaries, mainly because this lonely situation is hard to come by. People have various unshirkable responsibilities and obligations, and various interests induce us to unconsciously waste a lot of energy and time. Besides, people don't want to be lonely. After all, loneliness is not the bright side of life.

It is the senior intellectuals who are willing to be lonely, and the diligent intellectuals who set an example for the world. They live in their own thoughts. They either built their own spiritual building or reached the peak of their careers. In the world of diaries, they are still diligent and use diaries to build their own "buildings outside the mountains".

Some people can't keep a diary. It is not that he can't write, doesn't want to write, or has nothing to write. It's that our hard-won loneliness is in crisis.

Even if the diary is finished, it is still a lonely existence. Perhaps no one will ever read it, it only flows in the author's own heart.

Lonely Diary 5 Weekend, I found a diary with a password a few years ago. Surprisingly, there is not a trace of dust on it! I gently pressed the number with my finger from memory.

With a crunchy sound, it opened.

I can't remember the details. The only thing I remember is loneliness.

The speeding car, the whistling horn and the noisy environment were all strange to me at that time. I can't fit into any circle.

When I was in the fourth grade, I was divided into classes. I sat in the last row, and there was a girl sitting opposite a seat. Her skin is very white. After class, she will sit in a chair and read with relish with extracurricular books. It was not until the bell rang that she reluctantly took the book back to the drawer. Do you remember? This girl is you.

I don't remember how we met. The only thing I remember is that after class, there were two figures in the back row of the classroom closely together until the bell rang.

In the fifth grade, I had the first set of books in my life-a very interesting adventure novel, which was said to be adventure, but it wasn't.

You like books, so you heard the news. You blinked, and your sparkling eyes made me immediately present the set of books with my hands.

I still remember that when chatting with my classmates that day, a familiar name popped up from my classmates-"Liu Zi". Who is she? I forgot. You look like an epiphany. I can't help asking you. You roll your eyes and say, it's the hero in your novel!

When I woke up, you shook your head: I seriously doubt your memory.

I don't remember the conversation between you and me. The only thing I remember is two figures fighting in the classroom.

When I was in the sixth grade, I suddenly liked writing. I want to write a novel, so I pull you over and mysteriously say to you: Let's write a novel together!

You are obviously shocked, and then you are helpless: Please, can you read my words clearly? I shook my head honestly, and you gnashed your teeth: then what did you say!

Finally, you compromised, and I wrote it for you, but you kept your mouth shut and insisted that it was proofreading.

I can't remember exactly how much ink was used. The only thing I remember is the day when I sat with you and talked about novels.

……

It closed quietly.

Thanks to it, it recorded the dribs and drabs of me and you.

Thank you, let me no longer lonely.

Lonely diary for 6 nights, like a well-behaved child,

Sleep quietly.

The moon, hidden in the clouds,

Without a glimmer of moonlight,

Afraid of disturbing the dream at night.

And I, still in rags,

Salvage your figure in the lonely lake and sea.

At the moment, breathing is very light,

Irrepressible yearning, covered by aquatic plants,

Spread wildly

Standing on the other side, remembering endlessly,

Close your eyes and let your thoughts fly colorful.

Become a butterfly,

Sneak into your dreams,

Listen to your heart.

Weave you and me beautifully-unfold it,

Weave a fence to drive away all the sadness,

Fill the distant distance with expectation.

Listen, a gust of wind,

Just like your whisper.

How much sadness and joy can the noisy world of mortals precipitate?

Let the heart pass through the silent night,

Over the pain, straight to the vast water.

Make a mirror with water waves to reflect my charm,

Landing quietly in your dream lake ...

Lonely Diary 7 In this world, the lonely heart is the longest. Even if it rains and snows again, the eyebrows are still calm. Even if Wan Li is thousands of miles away in ten years, that peace is still there, always. This is Leng Yan's spiritual strength.

People are really different. The distance between people is hard to say. Great people often have some characteristics, such as being shocked by humiliation, being happy or not, being enlightened by clouds and not being confused by fog. Inner peace, compassion, high moral character, giving respect and creating invisibly. And those unattainable loneliness always seem to go hand in hand.

It is true that people who make us feel unattainable seem to be around and far away from us. They are so simple but so profound, so full and so sudden.

They have great compassion, great wisdom and a normal state. In the face of suffering, the heart is not tired, in the face of temptation and insult. Concentrate on doing the right thing and sincerely build Gankun. Leng Yan is faint, but there is an imperceptible warmth.

A warmth is persistent love; A warm, indifferent smile; A warm and lonely heart ...

Xue Xiaochan said: Excitement is always short-lived, and loneliness is long-lasting. And unattainable loneliness is a snow lotus.

Perhaps, it is the unattainable loneliness that restores the "truth", and after the "true self", because of the warmth of the spirit, the fate is not lonely, and it has turned a corner. I want to say that this in itself is transcendence and creation.

We assume that people should have grown up in loneliness, but they borrowed a lot of laughter in the process of growing up and should return them one by one; The last thing left on the face is the most lasting. So, in the end, will it stay on your face, laugh or cry? God knows, and so does your heart.

"Any light is not without darkness, but is not covered by darkness; Any hero is not without inferiority, but is not conquered by inferiority. " I believe you will flash a mysterious smile like Mona Lisa after reading this sentence.

In this laughter, there is Leng Yan's beating warmth. Maybe you feel mysterious and elusive, so-visit a tree sometime in the cold winter. You will also feel the warmth of Leng Yan.

How many storms and snowstorms humiliated it? It silently bears it. Even, happily accepted, creating a beautiful scene of fog and snow.

Next year, that lush tree has long been forgotten, or I don't know. Perhaps, now I will have a quiet spring dream on a lonely branch. Perhaps unconsciously, just wait firmly. This is the great beauty between heaven and earth. The tree supports its body with style and dresses itself with snow. If you can go in, then you can see. -& gt；

Lonely Diary 8 In that cold memory, I quietly recalled. Dark Woods, red-eyed bats, gloomy graves, accompanied by beautiful cries, everything looks so harmonious! Vultures danced happily at the funeral in the park, and white roses faded quietly. I use sad words to describe this muddy love.

I looked at the fermented black heart in my chest. No temperature, no beating. Who would have thought there was an unforgettable you buried in it, it's not called heart-the nether world.

A group of bloodthirsty ants and crawling maggots are eating stinking carrion. I stroked the cross on my chest, tugged at the dirty puppet in my hand, and a bloodthirsty smile touched my mouth. Losing you makes love and hate clear, and losing your tears is dirty.

The coffin full of resin incense is full of scarlet Mansa Zhu Hua, the crow is smiling strangely on the dead wood, and the wind is also very cooperative. Jesus and Satan will meet at midnight, girls who die young will hum gorgeous comfort, and psychic black cats will snuggle up at night.

Is this all conversion or round trip?