早在上个世纪还是高中时,心中就有了去献血的愿望。因为在农村,愿望只得依旧是愿望。当时很想献血的原因也简单极了,脑中总是晃荡着那幅景象:针孔“哧”他一声插入我的大动脉,只见我的血液“噗嗤”、“噗嗤”直冒,一股接一股地沿着输血管涌向储血袋。一旁站立的是满脸写着敬佩之情的漂亮女孩,伴着她的惊叹,我抬起大无畏的脸火辣辣地盯着她……不久,人世间有个陌生人骨子里流淌起我的血液……这双重浪漫的情节是我那时梦想的全部。 跨世纪了,我随着一列火车来到榕城,沉淀了几年的梦想终于破士而出。那次,我兴冲冲地来到位于山脚下的采血车旁。经过短暂的化验后,我被告知是O型血。随后,我上了车,一切都和我想的差不多:针孔插入我的动脉血管,鲜血顺着输备管流入储血袋,关键是一旁也真坐着一个漂亮女孩……结果,我落荒而逃,因为我只输到30毫升的血后就再也不出血了。 晚上,躺在床上,想起那漂亮女孩惊异而怜惜的大眼睛,想起我在她注视下的落荒而逃。我失眠了,写了一篇关于献血的日记,在文中我好生安慰了自己一回。至此,献血的念头藏在心底,不敢再提及。 大二那年的一日,学校来了一辆采血车,同学纷纷排队献血。我怕那次的尴尬重演,想闪。不料被班上一死党一把揪住,他说兄弟去“放血”,我不作陪未免太不够意思。他那神情吓得我赶忙说尿急,先上个卫生间。挣脱死党紧拽不放的手,我飞一般地冲向卫生间。接着,我瞅了个机会从后门溜走了。 第二天,班上开始风行一个笑话:老三(我)为了逃避献血跑到厕所躲了大半宿,宁肯享受厕所里那香味也不愿自己“放血”。我想辩解,却越辩越复杂。 As early as the last century or high school, there was a desire to donate blood. Because in the countryside, the desire has only to remain the desire. At that time, the reason for wanting to donate blood was also very simple. There was always a scene in his head: the pinhole “slammed” him into my aorta, and saw my blood “squeaking” and “squeaking”. Followed by a surge of blood flowing into the blood storage bag. Standing beside the beautiful girl with her face full of admiration, with her amazing, I raised her fearless face and stared at her hotly... Soon, there was a stranger in my heart who blew my blood... This dual romantic plot was all I had dreamed of at that time. Across the centuries, I came to Yucheng with a train. The dream that precipitated for several years finally broke through. That time, I excitedly came to the blood collection cart at the foot of the mountain. After a brief test, I was told that it was type O blood. Afterwards, I got into the car and everything was similar to what I thought: The needle hole was inserted into my arterial blood vessel. The blood flowed down the delivery tube and into the blood storage bag. The key was to sit on the side with a pretty girl.. As a result, I was left alone. Flee, because I only lose 30 ml of blood and I don’t get bleeding anymore. In the evening, lying in bed, I remembered the big eyes of the beautiful girl who were surprised and pity. I remembered that I fled with her gaze. I was insomnia and wrote a diary about blood donation. In the article, I was soothed to comfort myself. At this point, the idea of ​​blood donation hides in my heart and dares not mention it again. On the day of his sophomore year, the school came to a blood collection car, and the students queued to donate blood. I was afraid of the replay of that time. I wanted to flash it. Unexpectedly, he was stunned by a slaughter party in the class. He said that his brother went to “bleed”, and I wouldn’t be too immature to accompany it. His expression scared me quickly urgency, first on a bathroom. To get rid of the crushing party, I rushed to the bathroom. Then I took a chance to slip through the back door. The next day, the class began to laugh at a joke: The youngest (I) went to the bathroom to escape the blood donation and stayed for most of the time, preferring to enjoy the fragrance in the toilet rather than “blood”. I want to excuse, but the more complex the debate.