When I was a child in Sichuan, I always liked to wander around country roads for a long time. Walking aimlessly, running, mumbling and singing loudly. The fields rippled in all directions. In summer, cicadas wrap their ears like dense nets, and in winter, wet mud stubbornly sticks to the soles of their feet. The road ahead is endless, and my heart is screaming. Sparks splashed and sweated. I walk around the world like I can't feel the whole world, and swim around in the water like a fish that can't feel the water. Hit it from time to time, scarred. The wound will not heal, it hurts everywhere, and it is restless everywhere. The body is a secret room, age is forbidden, and it seals infinite enthusiasm and sadness. But there are cracks in words, eyes, fingertips and hair growth. This is the thunderous trend of growth, which has come crashing down and accumulated vitality for a lifetime. Since then, I have been sick and weak. Fortunately, there has been vigorous growth since childhood, and the power of childhood rumbles. So no matter how painful it is to be sick, I always feel that death is far away.
I play in the country, full of happiness and great fear. I am afraid of wild dogs, snakes and poisonous insects. Most afraid of roadside graves. It's no problem to have a new grave. The tombstone is brand-new, full of red debris, and looks more or less jubilant. Old graves are dense, stone tablets are skewed, graves collapse and coffins are exposed and deformed. The damp coffin was covered with dark green moss, dark and bottomless. Every time I pass such a grave, my heart breaks down, my back is cold, but my mouth is humming. I was eager to get there quickly, but I forced myself to slow down. When I was a child, I always pretended to be fearless. When there are people, it is fearless to show people. When no one is around, show it to the invisible eyes. You must be so brave. It seems that this is a necessary means to deter invisibility. Sometimes, in front of other friends, I deliberately climbed the cracked old grave and stepped on the bare coffin, talking and laughing. Also near the hole above, I looked in, picked up the coffin fragments bitten by rats and threw them at my companions. Those sawdust are relatively light, and when squeezed hard, they become powder, which rustles from the fingertips. At that time, there was both fear and pride in my heart, as well as a faint plea. This frivolous childhood, this little person, she is thin, sharp, uneasy and hopeful. I long for her to be forgiven.
I am eager for her to grow up quickly. Even now, I still feel that everything will be fine when I grow up, and I am not afraid of anything when I grow up. But when will "growing up" come? She feels that time is infinitely static. Wake up every morning, as if waking up and returning to yesterday. Grandma urged her to get up like yesterday, and the water under the eaves kept dripping like yesterday. She lay in a daze. She's lying down. She'll be fine. She took the initiative to chase, but everything still didn't come. She turned to face the wooden wall. This is a century-old wooden house, dark and moldy. The wooden board wall is covered with moth-eaten lines, endless bending and even chaos. She has seen this scene ten thousand times. Ten thousand thoughts are everywhere: the bug is lost. Insects gnaw at the surface of the board as if holding a flashlight in the dark. Her fingers stroked the insect's path and then fell asleep again. In my dream, I was trapped in the path of a bug. Grandma is calling her again. She suddenly remembered about school and felt anxious, but she couldn't wake up.
Grandma is over eighty, and she is not ten years old. Grandma is more than 70 years older than her. The distance of more than 70 years often makes her feel that the world is far away. She went to the fields again and again, climbed the highest slope again and again, and looked at the mountains in the distance. The hope and lofty sentiments at that time pushed her slightly to the center of the world. She clings to the edge of the world, thinking, just a little bit, grow up a little bit, grow up a little bit ... she returns to her home of six square meters, and grandma lies in the dark. She looked at her from a distance of seventy years, wondering whether she was alive or dead. I suddenly feel that my growth may come from my grandmother's life-long retirement. So she hesitated again.
Throughout her childhood, she was worried about her grandmother's death. Later, gradually and unconsciously, I began to wait for my grandmother's death. What is death? What is a loss? She doesn't want to think about it anymore. She ran as fast as she could, as if she were chasing and running away. She ran faster and faster, and then she flew. The wind instantly fills the throat and body, and the up, down, left, right and front directions are instantly chaotic. The world lost its gravity in an instant. She is bigger than the whole world in an instant. Flying is the great secret of her childhood. Sometimes she thinks it's a dream experience, and sometimes she's sure. However, she can't fly when she is crying or when she is afraid. On those two occasions, she was heavy. While crying, she dragged her heavy body in the fields and walked in the streets. I followed, helpless. I can't do anything in my life.
The loneliness of childhood also lies in the fact that bystanders never appear and witnesses are always silent. When I was a child, I walked alone in a deserted long lane. Look around and drag your legs slowly. I don't want to go home after dark. But if you don't go home after dark, you will be beaten. I stood in the street, in the vast childhood. The sea is drifting endlessly. I hesitate again and again.
I was so timid when I was a child. Afraid of being beaten, afraid of wild dogs, afraid of snakes, afraid of poisonous insects, afraid of evil words from the wicked. In the final analysis, it is the fear of death. I am afraid of all things hidden in the dark, afraid that they will suddenly come and completely control my own destiny. Fear of graves, fear of the dead, fear of ghosts. Later, I learned that people and ghosts take different paths. But when I was a child, the villain was unstable, and he was too eager to grow up and always touched the boundaries of everything from time to time. Walking on the road, one foot is yin and the other foot is yang. I got lost when I walked, and I didn't know whether I was dreaming or awake. Rural legends are intertwined with personal memories, and the accumulation in vast time is greater than the whole world. The lower part of the world is crowded and the upper part is vast. I am standing in the lower part of the world, and I am often so crowded that I cannot move. Looking up at the sky, it seems that if you look at it for a long time, the world will hang upside down and fall into boundless emptiness.
When I was a child, I was always oppressed by nightmares. No matter day or night, I am always deeply ignored by dark and hard things. Be observed, be tempted. They didn't know what I was, so they left. But some of them are malicious. They questioned me and insisted that I show weakness. They came very close and looked at me as if waiting for me to die. It feels my ears rumbling, my blood is flowing backwards, and my chest is beating gongs and drums, which is deeper than me. It witnessed my whole body trembling, silently counting the number of shocks stronger than one. When it reached a certain number, it took a step back and watched me sink into the deep sea. Careful observation of ten thousand meters of high pressure in all directions will knead my soul into dust.
I have only experienced pain, but my eyes are aware of the danger in front of me-it keeps appearing. It suddenly occurred to me that people would roll their eyes when they died. I don't want to die. Death is far from us. I tried to raise my eyelids. I seem to see everything in the room. Thought this was everything. However, a picture on the wall suddenly disappeared. Try to look over, it's still hanging there. Suddenly awake, brazenly open your eyes and disappear.
After lying down for a while, I gradually gained strength, and then I got up and took off that troublesome thing on the wall. Go back to sleep.
All the aggressive things in this world: nightmares that can't be awakened, mud on the soles of your feet that can't be thrown away, dogs that are chasing after you, mosquitoes that secretly guard you ... are attached to heavy objects. I can't escape. I ran on the country road as if I were pushing through. Great unknowns and instinctive hopes follow and roll back and forth, which is the storm that comes with the blow. A moment of fear, a moment of ecstasy. I can't stop. I know that as long as I stop running and calm down, the ambush will come from all directions. However, I fell down. However, they are empty. Great pain took me away. I sat in a strange place and cried. Someone passed by. I'm not squint. Someone gave me another look. I look forward to his fear. However, he also left. The fire seedlings in my heart gradually stabilized. Ambush in all directions is still quietly watching. I walked a long way home. Home is more terrible.
Home is the hardest. The people closest to you are the most indifferent, the bed you sleep in at night is the most dangerous and the night is the longest. But none of this can kill my fascination with the world. I am a student who will be slapped if I don't make progress in the next monthly exam, a child who has to borrow a white shirt before participating in the June 1 color parade, a bad boy who has lost mechanical pencil and tried to cheat his parents, and a coward who changes his route to go home after school every day to avoid being chased by boys in the same class. Cowards are desperate to rush through the endless jungle of fear. Helpless, helpless, but confident. Strange and confident! Cowards give birth to huge wings when they run away. The coward finally came home. The old grandmother and her foster mother sat in front of the black-and-white TV, and they turned their heads together. They are too old. Then they died. Cowards have never experienced such a great death. Death accumulates here from generation to generation. The room is dark. The coward forgot grandma's scolding and remembered a hot dinner she left in the pot.
This life must be my first life. This must be my first time in this world. I suddenly appeared in my childhood and suddenly stood there. My hands touch the end of the world, and my feet touch the edge of the abyss. You think you are an insect when you see an insect, and you think you are a bird when you see a wild animal. Or am I a weed? Or am I a stubborn stone? I'm so small, I'm almost gone, and I'm incredibly complete I go to school, school, class, class, sleep, eat, watch TV and do my homework. I really want to disappear. But on the other side of the world, it suddenly became clear and strong. There, I was still obsessed with running and still knew nothing about the world. Still stubborn and confused, still afraid and brave.
I can't believe I finally grew up. I walk firmly on the road, impartial. I'm almost not afraid of anything. Everything that threatens me, I can see through its bluff at a glance. You can live with what you can't see through. I am in good health and my mood is complex and firm. I am getting stronger and stronger, and I can do almost anything. At that moment, I began to get old.
But I'm not even afraid of getting old. But am I really not afraid? I clearly feel that my childhood is still lurking in the depths of my body, scarred, sensitive and patient. It is quietly waiting for a change that is far more vacant and huge than aging. I suspect it's death. But I still feel that death is far away.