I Lived a Happy Life
Are mental hospitals akin to arresting patients in advance to prevent crime? Even if it is so-called voluntary, how can a person have the freedom to renounce freedom?
How can people pay the price for things they have never done?
For dangerous mental patients, perhaps they can only be judged after they have an episode? A headache-inducing problem.
At my father’s funeral, I felt not the slightest bit of depression or sorrow for his death; the only lasting impression remains the physiologically uncomfortable atmosphere of the funeral, where strings and woodwinds screeched in discord, and wailing cries filled the wild.
From the first grade of elementary school to the first grade of junior high, a span of seven years, I only met them during winter and summer vacations. Other times could be perfectly described as having neither tidings nor trace. Perhaps at some moment, he was left far behind by me in my kindergarten childhood; throughout elementary school, the only ones close to me were my grandfather and grandmother.
Even during winter and summer vacations, I began to suspect if my smiles toward my parents were a seamless camouflage.
Perhaps the difference between a true smile and a fake one lies in whether one can stop immediately at will. Now, many of my smiles toward my mother are obviously active, controlled smiles.
Like Lao Lai entertaining his kin.
There are a few things that exist in my memories: In the lower grades, I refused many phone calls with my mother out of anger, but when I subsequently received the plastic toy soldiers she sent, the coexistence of guilt and joy seemed to indicate that my anger was also a camouflage. Camouflaged emotions.
Because I heard the homeroom teacher say that a certain classmate’s parent worked out of town but drove hundreds of kilometers just to attend a short parent-teacher conference… the teacher’s inexplicable praise led me, at the time, to shamelessly request my mother to take a three-hour car ride to attend the parent-teacher conference. Later, my mother didn’t come, and nothing happened.
I only remember that both sides of the highway were mountain forests masked in green, just like a map in a racing game. I sat in the car, sometimes watching three pre-downloaded episodes of iPartment for the whole trip, and sometimes I would sleep.
Junior High
In junior high PE class, the world that appeared monochrome in my eyes, like Kousei’s, was obviously different from that of my classmates at the time.
“Look at him, so melancholic”
On the sun-drenched concrete road, rushing to the playground that resembled an execution ground, the casual comments of classmates echoed constantly, echoing until now.
Poker Face Bro
Strange title… strange title… strange title… strange title… I seem to have never voiced an opinion to others regarding my nickname, even if I was indeed annoyed at times.
But not to the degree of shouting in anger. As long as they are happy, I mean it.
The medicine ball that a classmate accidentally threw at me did not cause me to dodge; of course, he didn’t hit me either. My heart did indeed tangle with complexity for an instant, but ultimately I did not walk away, watching the red medicine ball gradually descend from the background of the blue sky, gradually approaching me, hitting the ground two meters away. It was probably a subconscious avoidance that kept me from being crushed to death.
“Your guts are huge~ Sorry.”
He was absolutely the most innocent person of our age; he had a big build, yet possessed the smile of a child, as if every class had such a character. He scratched his head and walked away to my right. My expression did not change; it was all blankness and sadness. The clouds of blankness and sadness have hovered until now.
To cater to possible customs, to make myself look more approachable, perhaps to win the favor or reassurance of my classmates, on the first day of living at school, in the narrow dormitory aisle, by my lower bunk bed, I stripped stark naked, trembling as I took my shampoo and body wash to the shower room. Even though at home I was only required by my grandfather to take a bath and wash my hair once a week, at school I was so bold.
Heh
I want to tear up this memory.
ZYX
My elementary school crush was not in the same class as me!!! Woohoo!!!
I am going to die,
。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。
I still like her. She is so cute. After entering high school, she seems to be just as cute as she was in elementary school, just as cute.
I really like her expression; it is not a smile hiding a knife, it is a sincere alertness, it is an expression that could not be more real, it is an expression, just like mine.
I still remember in elementary school when she wore fluffy, cute clothes and sat next to my seat, starting to perform English words. I clearly remember there were two small fluffy balls on her clothes, extremely cute.
She was extremely cute.
I miss her so much.
But I simply cannot speak to anyone.
I simply cannot speak to anyone, so I simply cannot have any interaction with her; I seem to have lost the ability to converse.
But, really, just seeing her makes me so happy.
June 5, 2021, sadly took a leave of absence at home for two weeks. Gaokao is next week, forced to continue the leave.
Every time, I schedule to commit suicide upon returning to school.
However, even if I have thought ten thousand times by the railing about climbing up like a gymnast, leaning my body out, and then falling into a pool of blood,
If I haven’t practiced it even once, how can one say the probability of his suicide is high?
Do we not think about suicide all the time?
16:57, headache, sunny, dusk void