Since March 4th, my mood has become very bad. I always inexplicably feel a burst of sadness floating over every nerve ending, and then I become unhappy.
I started to write a lot of words because many editors were urging me. Many nights I sat alone in front of the windowsill, writing quickly with a pen, or just holding it still. Outside the window is the erratic wind, all over the sky, all over the ground, screaming arrogantly, tearing at my curtains. I wonder when the spring wind became like this.
I always set my alarm clock forward for half an hour, so as to let me know that it's late in the morning and I should go to bed, and then let me know again in the morning that it's almost dawn and I should get up and go to school. I know my life is a mess. I see my eyes getting dimmer every day in the mirror, and I'm scared. But the days passed like this.
Many nights I feel like crying when I write, my eyes are swollen and my nose is sore, but I always hold back, take a few deep breaths and tell myself not to panic. I'm afraid to face the huge darkness alone at night, and I'm afraid I'll cry timidly.
I moved out of the school dormitory for eight people and moved to an old house near the school. When we moved, there were only two large cartons, which contained many tapes and books, all of which were bought a long time ago. Some books were even broken, so I glued them together carefully. I hope my new room can be filled with the breath of my own home. The first night I moved into my new home, I totally missed my parents, the cactus on my windowsill, my white puppy spot, the mahogany bookcase I used for four years, and the desk lamp I used for four years.
I fell asleep thinking about it, and when I gradually fell asleep, I felt the familiar smell and the warmth behind it, just like the room where my family used to sleep. So I held the quilt happily.
But when I woke up the next morning, I felt cold. While I obviously felt the cold, I suddenly remembered the scene of my mother cooking milk for me in the morning in junior high school, and I wanted to cry. But in the end, I didn't. I get up quietly and get dressed. I wore a thick scarf when I went out.
I'm getting more and more sober, which makes me panic. I always get brighter and brighter as the night gets darker. Many times I always force myself to throw away my pen and turn off the desk lamp to sleep, but when I cover the quilt, I find that I really can't sleep. At this time, the past events that have already settled down will come back to my mind like the Iron Horse Glacier. Then, in a trance, it was already dawn. And I always expect it to be dark for a while, so that I can have a good sleep like a child, even if I am late occasionally, and then I will be like a healthy and happy child. But it's still bright.
I never knew how lonely people would be watching the sky light up. First, the horizon began to spread a little pale, and then spread to the whole sky bit by bit. I began to miss the days when I opened my eyes and saw the sky bright.
I called my editor that day and I said I was ill. My voice broke into tears on the phone. My editor was frightened. There was a hint of hesitation in his always clean and firm voice. He said don't panic, you write the manuscript slowly. I was very sad when I heard that. He has always been my favorite editor. When he calls me for the manuscript, he will ask me if I have eaten in any class today. I suddenly felt sorry for him. But I am really sick. I feel a few hot spots embedded in my head, burning badly. I saw a blue wind floating in the air in front of me. I don't need to see a doctor. I'm really sick.
After the phone call, I walked back to my rented room from the telephone booth alone. When I am walking on the road, I think I must not fall down, or I will die. I went back to my room, plunged into bed, slept soundly until dawn, and then ran to school with a lot of books in my arms.
It's really hard to describe Xiao's face when he saw me. After he looked at me for a long time, he suddenly told me not to write. Look what you have become. I looked at Xiao's face, and I wanted to cry, but I didn't. For so long, so many people just say that I have become indifferent and aloof, but no one has taught me so fiercely as Xiao, but I feel very warm. Just like a naughty and willful child who was ignored after making trouble without reason, my brother came and took him by the hand and took him home. At this time, the child is happy and sad, and he wants to cry.
So I want to cry. I fought back my tears and said to the little boy, look at it. It is strange that the camphor tree at the school gate actually lost its leaves all over the floor in spring. Little A's eyes are shining, and I can see the pain from my heart.
I quarreled with many people and everyone in March this year.
A large group of people had a good time together, and suddenly I didn't want to talk. I sat alone with my arms around me, and the atmosphere became a little awkward. Actually, they are all very good friends. There's no need for that. But I really suddenly don't want to talk. When I was leafing through a magazine that day, I saw a paragraph. It says: A person's life is limited. Speak more when you are young, but less when you are old. I think writing should also be counted as talking, because I think it is more like telling the truth when I write. So I write more words, will I say less? I don't know. I feel a little scary.
A large group of people played badminton happily together, and suddenly I became angry. I threw my racket on the ground and walked alone without looking back. For some reason, I was angry with the zodiac that day. It was a big fire. But there is no reason. At that time, Xiao Lei told me that I was too lazy to talk to you. So I know I'm really unreasonable to the point of hopeless. I wanted to say sorry to her, but I turned and walked away. That day, when I left angrily, I put Jiang Weiwen's clothes on the ground in my bag. I remember clearly when Jiang Weiwen said I was crazy behind my back.
When I walked to the school gate that day, I suddenly turned around and asked Xiao Bei: Will you suddenly ignore me one day? Xiao Bei looked at me and gave me a brilliant smile: Don't worry. At that time, I just wanted to cry on Xiaobei's shoulder. Xiaobei is a girl who loves to laugh. I have never seen her cry. Later, I saw an article written by Xiao Bei. She said: I am with many happy people. I told myself that I was happy, too. People thought I was happy because my face was gloomy and sad, but I was still smiling happily. Later, I heard a girl say that Xiao Bei hid in the quilt and shed tears at night. I knew that everyone had tears.
At noon that day, I had dinner with Xiao Bei and Xiao Lei. Xiao Lei said that I got angry easily recently. I turned to look at Xiaobei, opened my mouth, and finally didn't speak. Xiaobei looked down at the rice in the bowl and whispered, I see. Xiao Lei said: If you want to cry, you can cry. I cried at my friend's house last night. Look how happy I am today. I looked at her, but I still didn't speak.
Mangyuan reprinted my article without giving me any notice. So I posted a post asking why. Later, teacher Chen Cun replied to a post, and the editor also replied. But some people scold me, saying that this fucking guy really hypes himself. I did nothing wrong, but I was severely scolded by others.
Weekend. But I don't want to go home. I'm afraid my parents will feel distressed when they see me. I know I look haggard. My eyes are sunken and my face is pale. My mother will be distressed to see it. So I told Xiaoji that I won't go back this week, and you can play with me. So Xiaojiezi promised me. However, the day before the holiday, Xiaojiezi suddenly told me that he would not accompany me. He said that his old classmates made an appointment to play together, and they made an appointment last week. Everyone can hear that this is an excuse. But I didn't say anything, and he took pains to think of excuses for me, instead of telling me forcefully that people should be satisfied.
Didn't come home on the first day of holiday. After lunch, Xiao Bei went to play with three girls. I was embarrassed to run with many girls, so I went online alone. I saw the "Cloudy Day" I just posted on the Internet and got a lot of replies in a short time. They said: We are also lonely. Later, I met Master Xiao Dan on OICQ. I asked her where she was and she said I was next to you. Then I looked back and saw her and Xiaoyou.
Mr Xiao Dan is going back to school to sleep. Why don't you lobby us to go out for a walk? I said yes.
It was sunny that afternoon. Xiaoyou and I walked slowly along the city, all the way from the city to the countryside and back to the city from the countryside. Kind of like the Long March.
That afternoon, I watched others catch crabs by the river bank for 30 minutes, sat on the river bank for a short time to watch others fish, and was chased by a dog in the open field. I distinguished the difference between home wheat and wild wheat, and broke off a wild wheat ear conveniently. I bought T.A. at Xiaonanmen Bookstore and ENYA's Memory of Trees at the video store.
Xiaoyou is a very nice person. He spent the afternoon with me.
On Sunday morning, I went home alone with my luggage. I met Xiaojiezi when I went downstairs. He went to the movies alone, and I didn't say anything. He took me to Ximen station, and then I got on the bus with my luggage alone.
Go home.
I know my parents will be worried. Dad asked me why I didn't come back yesterday. He waited for me at home all afternoon. I feel very warm after listening. Yes, in my home, I will always be hurt.
When eating out at night, my mother told me that the child should stop writing and be a good boy who reads and plays ball as before. I don't believe you. I looked at my mother, my favorite mother, and I really wanted to cry.
Let's go home after supper. I met little A on the road.
Xiao said we should go out for a walk, so I agreed.
The city is more and more brightly lit, and the cold night wind makes people sober. But I don't know where to go under the city lights, just blindly follow the little boy around.
Xiao and I sat on the railing of the footbridge again, leaning back as before, watching the lights coming and going below. I am a person who is afraid of the lights on the road at night. I always cover my eyes with my hands when the light comes at me from the darkness. I don't know why, it's a ridiculous habit. But that night I watched the headlights coming and going below, and I was not afraid. I think those lights have become very warm. Maybe I have a little A to accompany me for so long, and no one to accompany me for a long time. I feel sore all over when I think about it, and I feel like a poor child forgotten by the whole world.
Little boy said that you should live a life without language. After writing this book, you should have a good sleep. Only by forgetting all the joys and sorrows can you wake up. When you wake up, you will find that the earth is full of blue and white flowers.
I look small. The smile on his face is quiet and firm, which makes me feel warm.
When I got home, I thought that Xiaojiezi and others went to the river to catch crabs in the afternoon, so I called him. I think he can tell me something happy, and then I may feel better. But I could hear on the phone that he was impatient, so I said coldly, don't be impatient with me, I'm bored, too. Then hung up the phone. Then I swear: you bastard? Then my tears fell.
My tears finally fell. It was a long-awaited catharsis, an unscrupulous fireworks, so I cried and exhausted all my strength. I cried like a child.
Tears fell on the blanket I laid on the ground and got wet a lot. I was surprised that I had so many tears, but I kept crying.
Finally, I was exhausted and fell on the bed. I fell asleep.
Just before I fell into a nightmare, I said to myself: Go to sleep, I don't want to wake up.
Accurately speaking, my March, my misty, sad and depressing March has passed. At the time of writing this article, I had just finished my evening self-study, teased some friends, and acted as a little liar several times, because today is April Fool's Day. I think I like April. A month that begins with such a wonderful festival should be full of happiness.
On April 1 day, I read Jamlom's post in March, My Displaced Life, which I wrote. She said that in March, it seemed that many people cried wantonly between their fingers. But our March is over, and there will be a bright wind and my favorite summer sunshine tomorrow.
I have too much to say about the article March. Xiao Bei said that your March was too rough and the rhythm was too strong, which was not as good as your cloudy day. So I told her that I wrote March not for literature, but more for catharsis. I want these words to take away the black sadness accumulated in my heart and all the reasons and excuses that make me angry. I am like an overflowing reservoir, and the water level has already exceeded the warning line. Even if there is a small hole, I will pour out everything I have in my heart. Since I can't wait for that gap to appear, I'll get one myself. Really, if I don't vent, I think I will be completely destroyed-really destroyed, from the inside out, completely crushed into powder, and then blown away by the wind.
It was posted on the Internet in March. Many friends who like me and care about me send emails asking me what's wrong. They are a little flustered, which makes me feel very warm. H says four dimensions, if writing makes you unhappy, then you live a life without writing. Even then, the connection between us will be broken. But as long as you are happy, that's good. CC said four dimensions, unlike what you wrote. You have always been an introvert, and your sadness is clear and weak, but this article reminds me of too many extreme things. What's wrong with you recently? You seem to be against the whole world. You worry me.
It seems that I am really worried.
By the time I received these emails, March was drawing to a close, and my hysterical anger had gradually turned into a faint and subtle sadness, just like I used to, which was my favorite state.
I pulled Xiao Ye out of the school dormitory to live with me. I want to give myself no chance to think about the empty room alone, and I want to return to the previous calm state. And the days are really getting better every day.
I waited for Xiao Ye to go home with him every night, laughing hysterically all the way. After turning off the lights at night, we lie in bed and chat, looking at things in the dark is very confused, and we hear clear voices in the air. I drink a big glass of water every day, my mother says, which is a good habit. When I have time, I will play ball. When I try my best to kill the ball but it hits the net, I won't lose my temper as before. I'll pat myself on the head and say I'm stupid and killed. I am still writing articles, and I have written four book reviews in one breath, all of which are my favorite writers: Liu Liangcheng, Annie Baby, Su Tong, and my favorite fairy tale Peter Pan. I write 2,000 words a day in no hurry, without the inexplicable irritability and panic I used to have.
I really returned to my original state day by day. I am very happy to see my smile in the mirror become clear day by day.
I think I'm starting to digress. In March, the state of displacement that made me tremble with fear receded from my life in the increasingly brilliant sunshine, just like the unscrupulous cicada singing in summer. Shouting for a whole summer, in the autumn wind, I retreated to the depths of the forest bit by bit. Unconsciously, in a trance, the whole forest was quiet, leaving only the sound of trees growing quietly. This is a bit like my current state.
What about the inexplicable sadness? I tried to find them, but they were gone. Is it really gone with the wind? I'm at peace now, and I'm acting calm. Only when I go home occasionally, sit quietly on the floor, drink a large glass of water, and make a lonely sound in my throat can I see the sad trance in front of me, but it has been gently washed away by the running water of time, leaving no trace, just like erasing a large vague blank on a big sketch with an eraser, which is a vague surprise.
The state of anger faded from the drawing paper, leaving such a blank and giving me a place to commemorate.
I really don't know what happened that March, and I can't say it. It's like a child waving his little arms and legs excitedly after watching a beautiful fireworks, unable to say anything, but screaming twice at most. Maybe people thought he was crying.
There is only one week before that horrible day, but after only one week, I already feel that it has been a year or a century. Now let me review the state in March. It's like I'm standing on this side of the river and looking at Liao.
On the other side of the open water, a child sat on the ground crying helplessly, with big tears falling, red eyes, toys thrown away, candy thrown away, and that child was me.
Bai said: the road to recall is always thrilling.
Speaking of white, I think of a friend, the young cherry blossom. When I was in a panic, he sent me an email, and he copied the white sentence for me. Forgetting the original sentence probably means that there will always be such a time in a person's life-a person's war. At this time, your heart has been turned upside down, but in the eyes of others, you are just a little more silent than usual, and no one will be surprised. This kind of war is doomed to be alone.
This passage gave me a warm feeling at that time, that is, from that time on, I escaped from the panic like the top of Mount Tai. I'm glad I didn't die for no reason. I came back from a man's battlefield.
I was not the only one who felt lost and displaced in that parade. Including my good friend and some of my favorite student authors, everyone is like a lost child, standing on the street corner crying loudly, others care about him, and he refuses to trust anyone. For example, Gu Xiang is my favorite girl, the girl who is sunny and full of stretching wind everywhere. But how extreme she is in her latest article. For example, she wrote: "I became more sensitive, surly, withdrawn, indifferent, mean and pessimistic." Note that I am like this. ""I went to work in the TV station again, and I was very happy when I went, just like my stomach hurts or other parts hurt. It's fierce, just like cancer devours things. I just point to it and starve to death to see who kills who first. "I felt very scared, and I started to get cold from my heart until it was completely cold outside. The whole portrait is covered with solid ice and braving heavy air conditioning.
So I really want to tell my friends, don't panic, I have survived, walk slowly, as long as you don't fall off the cliff, you can walk any way you want.
Some people say that a writer will feel lonely all his life. I feel horrible. I don't want that kind of life. Although some people say that it is a taste to be content with loneliness, lonely people are excellent, but I don't want it. I hope I am happy. When you are free, you can read books, play ball and occasionally ask a few stupid questions. This is the real happy life.
I think I will soon forget this March. Although it brought me a deep wound, no matter how deep the wound is, it will heal slowly until the skin grows back. Otherwise, this parade will be a painful commemoration for me. I can be sad, but I can't be sad forever. I can't be a child who is always sad like Peter Pan. Children can cry or cry when they lose their beloved balloons, because we call them children, but children should grow up slowly. When I grow up, I can't cry for a balloon anymore. Butterflies are changed by caterpillars. It is very painful to tear off a layer of skin at the moment when they come out of the pupa. Many butterflies die in pain at the moment of cocoon breaking, get stuck there, die on the way to eclosion, and die in the previous step of spreading their wings and flying. It's kind of like growing up.
If the hands on the clock don't stop, we will go on. It's a mistake to stay where you are. We should keep saying goodbye to some people and things, and then keep chasing the wave of homelessness.
In March, I will forget you. I remember saying this on the last day of March.
Today, I read a passage from Wang Ze in a magazine: Only when you leave a place can you seriously re-examine yourself, listen to new songs and take a new road, and suddenly you find that you have really forgotten what you tried so hard to forget. The rest is the most unforgettable and exciting part.
I think it's really good. Things that I thought I would never forget are now a little blurred. What is left is a filtered emotion, like the smell of phoenix flowers blooming in early summer.
Forgetting is our unchangeable destiny.
Finally, I quote Haruki Murakami:
"Just like drawing paper who didn't aim.
Everything, everything follows the past that can't go back,
Staggered bit by bit. "
Maybe we should really forget about those interlaced things.