我所居住的小镇总是给像我这样——进入担当年龄的年轻人一种悲壮的委屈感——顶不了天,立不了地。我和我的朋友们,从周一到周五,大都蛇行鼠窜地散布在方圆几十里的乡间,坚守着十年寒窗苦熬得来的铁饭碗,一晃已近十年。而今想来,十年前的豪言壮语,就像肥皂泡,吹出来五彩缤纷,却又在刹那间无踪无影,细究起来,除了能让人产生气馁的挫败感之外,我们一无所有。只有周末的时候,我们才风尘仆仆地像归巢的鸟儿一样,争先恐后地回到小镇。 The town where I live always gives me, like myself, a travesty of grievances to young people of my age - beyond the reach of the sky. My friends and I, from Monday to Friday, most of them snake through the countryside in the radius of dozens of miles and stick to the iron rice bowls that have been suffering for a decade. Now, the rhetoric of ten years ago, like soap bubbles, blown out in a colorful way, but disappeared in an instant, fine-grained, in addition to give people frustration, we have nothing. Only on weekends, we are scrambling to return to the town like the birds homing.