Guilt topic composition 1 happened in the summer of my second grade. I will never forget it. Do you want to know why? Then look down.
That summer, my most beloved class teacher, Miss Bai, asked five of us to take part in a math contest. Everyone else did well in the exam, but I didn't do well. Miss Bai severely criticized me when she found out. Suddenly, my tears came down. I thought: I just don't have enough time. How can you blame me? Well, it's just that you didn't do well in the exam, so you're not so angry, are you? And called me cry! Well, I won't take part in it anymore!
But after that, my classmates looked at me coldly, and I was very unhappy. So I study hard. Although my grades have improved, most people ignore me. In those two days, I have been meditating and thinking about the reason why I failed: why did others do well in the exam and I didn't? Why do others have plenty of time and I don't? The problem is still me.
However, opportunities don't always come, what's more, I used to think so ... will opportunities really be seized by me? I began to fear that I couldn't compete in math, and that my classmates would still be lukewarm to me like that ... I thought, it's over, it's really over, and the math competition teacher will never choose me again.
However, people are not as good as heaven. In this math contest, Miss Bai chose me again! I am very happy. Finally, God paid off. I got full marks at once, and my classmates looked at me with good eyes again. Miss Bai is also very happy.
Looking back now, I still feel ridiculous. This is an exam for yourself, not for the teacher. I actually blame the teacher. I really feel guilty. I study well now, but occasionally I am a little careless.
Whenever someone asks me why I study well, I always smile without saying a word. I've always kept a secret in my heart. However, it is this secret that encourages me to move forward.
Guilt topic composition 2 Sir Zhong is an out-and-out farmer, with his face facing the loess and his back facing the sky all his life. He has no children and daughters, never married, and has been living in his brother's house.
Sir Zhong worked for his brother and sister-in-law when he was young, and for his brother and sister-in-law when he was old. After all, their children are raised by the hard-earned money earned by Sir Zhong. It was not until Mr. Zhong couldn't work that his aunt (his aunt) began to hate Mr. Zhong, saying that he was still eating and drinking in this house without any trace of work, and he lost his temper with Mr. Zhong at every little thing. Mr. Zhong, who is introverted, never said a word, but answered menstruation's unreasonable troubles with silence. Although my uncle is Mr. Zhong's younger brother, instead of helping him, he took his anger out on his aunt and tried his best to send Mr. Zhong away. Sir Zhong's body gradually showed some minor symptoms, but he didn't care. Until one day, my father went back to his hometown to visit Sir Zhong. Sir Zhong said that he had a terrible stomachache these days, and his father immediately sent him to the hospital. After the test results came out, I was shocked. Sir Zhong has stomach cancer, and it is advanced, and chemotherapy is useless. Dad begged the doctor not to tell Mr. Zhong the real result, and then lied to Mr. Zhong that it was just a gastric ulcer. Then my father took Mr. Zhong to his fourth mother's house and wanted her to take good care of him. My uncle and aunt were very happy when they heard that Mr. Zhong was going to live in Sinian's home. They sent Mr. Zhong's clothes and daily necessities overnight. Fourth mother is a good person. She takes care of Sir Zhong wholeheartedly, and her children are also very kind to him. However, Mr. Zhong's condition quickly deteriorated again, and he began to take a few steps to catch his breath, which lasted for half an hour. Later, she was forbidden to urinate, but fourth mother took care of Mr. Zhong wholeheartedly and washed his clothes, and never doubted that Mr. Zhong was dirty (there are still good people in the world). As a result, I heard the news of Mr. Zhong's death early that morning. I really regret not visiting Mr. Zhong, but everything is useless. Looking at Sir Zhong lying in a coffin in a black robe, I feel guilty, but I want to cry but I can't. At this time, my aunt was crying, and someone was saying, "Oh, look at his sister-in-law!" Who knows the truth? Who knew there was a sinister face behind the mask of a good man? A few days later, my aunt cooked a good dish with the rest of Mr. Zhong's money and invited relatives and friends to eat it.
Who knows if she feels guilty? Sir Zhong has been gone for a year. I wonder if he is happy there?
My painting teacher is a middle-aged man with a chubby beer belly.
I think he is a good teacher, but I have always felt guilty about him.
On that day, I went to learn Chinese painting as always, but I was still young, with no perseverance, random personality and willful temper. All my bad habits are concentrated on me. When the teacher meticulously taught us the steps of drawing. Next, I play with my classmates and sometimes laugh.
The teacher is a kind person. He didn't criticize me, but looked at me with soft eyes and reminded me not to miss class. But my mouth is always busy, and it's getting worse. The gushing nonsense is like a raging river.
Because I don't listen carefully in class, once I start to do it myself, the pen in my hand is especially not as handy as before. Facing the white and clean rice paper, the brush doesn't listen to you, like a wayward child. The first pen fell, and thick ink spread on the paper, which was a complete failure. In order not to be surpassed, I put this painting aside. But in the face of the new test paper, I once again have no way to start.
Crustily skin of head, I finished the painting by imagination. Lines, colors, tones, I am eager to try my best to find satisfactory places, but all failed. This is still a poor painting.
Three, four, five. Here's the fifth picture. The teacher couldn't help it and said; "How can you draw well if you are so impetuous?" I was angry because I didn't draw well. I immediately put down my pen and rushed home.
On the way home, the quiet atmosphere prompted me to calm my impetuous heart and recall the impulse just now. "If it goes too far, who can blame for poor painting? I still lost my temper and blamed the teacher. " Suddenly I regret it and want to apologize to the teacher, but isn't that spineless? I gave up the idea again.
With anxiety and guilt, I walked more and more slowly on my way home. ...
Whenever I see grandma's weather-beaten face, I feel guilty. I know, I hurt grandma so much. Grandma, have you really forgiven me?
That year, I was only seven years old, and I was still an ignorant child. My parents often travel, and my grandmother comes from the countryside to the city to take care of me and accompany me. I'm afraid I'll touch and knock and love me very much. I always thought grandma was dirty and didn't want to talk to her. The students all said, "Why is your grandmother so dirty?" From then on, I began to hate grandma.
Once, I was having fun with my classmates when it suddenly rained heavily. We were trapped in a small pavilion. I saw a figure stumbling over in the distance. When I looked intently, it was grandma. I didn't expect my grandmother to embarrass me, so I ran over, pushed her around and shouted, "What are you doing here?" ! Who told you to come! You go! "I pushed my grandmother away, and she just fell on a thick branch, and a cut immediately appeared on her leg. She struggled to get up and smiled and said to me, "I'm afraid you'll get wet." I brought you an umbrella. You will get sick if you get wet! " "She said, and came along. I grabbed my umbrella and ran, leaving grandma standing alone in the rain. ...
The next day, grandma was ill. It happened that mom was on a business trip again and dad was not at home. When I came home from school, I found that there was no water at home, so I shouted angrily to my grandmother who was resting in bed, "Why is there not a drop of water?" Grandma got out of bed and went into the kitchen. When she came out, she had a peeled apple in her left hand and a fruit knife in her right hand. She handed me the apple and I threw it at her. The knife hit grandma's right hand without bias or inclination, and the knife fell on yesterday's wound, and the blood suddenly flowed out. Grandma smiled and said to me, "here's five dollars for drinks!" " I picked up the money, snorted and left.
A few days later, grandma went back to her hometown. After knowing this, my father severely criticized me: "grandma cares so much about you, but you have done so much harm to grandma." It was not easy for your grandmother to bring up our brothers since childhood. Now that she is old, she should enjoy herself, but she has taken great pains to take care of you and lighten our burden. Are you always ashamed? " Every time I see the scar on grandma's leg, tears come out, but grandma says, "silly child, you will always be my baby."
Grandma, you are so ordinary and kind. I love you forever!
I was angry with my grandmother, wearing only a thin coat and lying on the cool windowsill. The autumn wind brushed my cheeks and a chill came. I was caught off guard and shuddered. But I feel there are a pair of kind eyes behind me. "It's cold, put on your coat." An old voice came from my ear. It's grandma. She held out her hand slowly, handed in a windbreaker and gently put it on my shoulder. What weather-beaten hands they are! He is skinny, with clear knuckles and wrinkled back. But it's warm, and that kind of concern is conveyed through clothes. My heart trembled and I couldn't help turning to my grandmother's arms. Moonlight, like silver, falls on the eaves, like silver strings, and small flying insects play melodious melodies on them, echoing in the blood. "Grandma," I said softly, "then the moon will disappear! Let me not find it. " "Yes, it's natural to go when it's time to go." Grandma said softly, "Like everything in time, it will always disappear." Grandma stared at the bright moon and said nothing, but I could feel the sadness, just like talking about myself. This is my extreme fear of grandma's sudden disappearance. Why are you afraid? Because I care about grandma, too. But she must love me more, but I always quarrel with her because of some small things, and sometimes I am deliberately angry with her, but my grandmother always cares and loves me so much. "Ten years in the same boat, a hundred years in the same pillow, and a thousand years in the same bosom." But how many years will it take to repair the blood relationship?
Why, I will easily hurt someone who loves me? But she always embraces me with a loving heart and forgives me. No matter how hurt she is, she will comfort me and protect me first, just because she loves me! At this time, I fell into deep guilt. My heart seems to have been pierced by a fine needle. It doesn't hurt, but it itches. My sour tears keep spinning. Grandma, if one day, everything disappears, I will face it alone. I hope you can still love me like this and tell me what to cherish. I will take good care of it and prevent it from getting hurt, just like you did to me. Moonlight, quietly sprinkled on the snuggling young and old, clean moonlight seems to wash away everything, I wonder if it can absorb my guilt? Grandma and I sat together without saying a word, but there was a warm current flowing through. One is full of warmth and the other is full of guilt. "Grandma, I'm sorry." Moonlight still quietly sprinkled on the ground, in my heart.