I was just shocked. Silently shocked.
I was shocked by the simplest fact: people who are not married can kiss. I am too poor to live in a vacuum world. I didn't understand until the dazzling headlights shone and the blood overflowed.
Confident and secretly pleased, I thought I could escape? Then why did you fall to another person easily after a few weeks without resistance?
Or maybe I was shocked by his romance and defection. I am eager to find my own romance in his romance. And defected, defected again and again, curled up in a cold and dark cave, looking for what, can't find it anywhere?
What if it is still scarce? What if you still don't understand? Is it too hard to go on the road again and again? Youth should not stop, it should have stopped. When we get to a certain place, it is snowing all over the sky. This stop will not be the end, but at least we can stop for a while.
As for those childish dreams, did he really say it? Did I mention it? There must be something that makes him suddenly weak before he confides. For example, those lonely nights like wolves, only when the body dies can the soul be reborn. If that's what he wants to say.
This vague answer will arouse suspicion. We are all too young to express ourselves in the right language. Many years later, there, at the square table, he said without hesitation, I want to go to Paris, Vienna, or Italy. This is my dream. Write, draw, sing and wander. This is his real dream. The dream mentioned before is just a realistic stone. When we can't even lift a small stone, it blocks our throats.
Shame to say it, it is impossible to say it.
He asked me, what is your dream?
What I blurted out was: follow you, the ends of the earth.
Water waves come up layer by layer, gathering and dispersing; The picture is a little blurred, deepened and melted.
We can't breathe. I was silent in a trance.
I lost contact when I woke up.
Strangely, time is so short, things are so dull and memories are so scarce. Is there anything I can't forget?
I showed them the aesthetics that had been laughed at for a long time. Nobody thinks you're beautiful? The beauty covered by a lot of chaos and inaction. The kind of beauty that has never been valued. When you enter a dark tunnel, the light is cut off.
The railway extends into the distance. You firmly deny that it is your poem. Where should you put your poem? Why didn't I turn around and listen to your poem?
I don't care about the railway, I don't care where it extends, I don't care what's there.
I like pebbles beside the railway. What do you use to add them? They are messy, random, scattered one by one and have their own rhythm. They also point to one place. This is where I want to go. I've always wanted to go.
He jumped up and fell down again. He was at a loss. He was on it.
My balance is tilted.
Why am I so impatient? He said, there is a problem between you. Meaningful. Just like the back of my hand.
Neither hope belongs to him, and he has never had one.
I am always wrong about others, wrong about him, why do I always feel cold and tireless, and construct according to my own wishes to comfort myself.
Selfishness is so pathetic. Who will forgive me?
A brochure, a photo, a bag, an unfinished sentence.
He is not the man who ran up the stairs in three steps at night.
Earlier that afternoon, I was not the one he bent down to ask the answer.
From that moment on, I stood far away. So far away from everyone.
I never came back.
I should have visited you. I have been listening to that song during that time, but I didn't go to see you. I should have visited you. I wrote some words, changed them over and over again, sent them out and returned them. I should have visited you.
But I didn't go. I fell into the panic of extinction. This is the longest and cruelest disaster in my life. I haven't been to see you. In this disaster, I lost the most precious thing I ever had, and I'm not sure if I can get it back.
I haven't seen it so far, so I might as well not.
I never do anything I'm not sure about.
During that time, I have been listening to that song, just like listening to another song before.
In another song, a man jumps into the sea with a very natural posture, a stubborn smile and a painful gesture. I misread you on purpose, and I thought it was you.
I kept passing strangers while listening to that song. Why would I miss you? Why? When I fall in love with someone else.
Why is my heart lonely when I am in love?
I thought about it. I looked up and saw your face, like the face of a wild horse. Why are you here? It's like God's will.
And night, it is night, and night wraps all the pain. Years later, when we opened it, all we saw was a faint feather, which became holy in our hands.
It's gone. It's all gone. It went up in smoke.
I always misunderstand him. I may think too well of him. He may be a man who has no pursuit, is laughed at and is fragmented. He may have hurt many people, he may become more and more vulgar, and the dream he once loved may be only because of childishness and rebellion, not because of talent and thoughtfulness.
Maybe he used to be really good, but the reality makes him no longer so good.
It doesn't matter, really. It doesn't matter at all. Because I am not a good person, I have nothing to pursue. I have suffered a lot and hurt many people. I am becoming more and more vulgar, mean and vicious. It used to be a full stop, but beyond that, there is nothing we can do.
Is this a short essay?