I Have Lived a Happy Life

Is a psychiatric hospital akin to arresting patients in advance just to prevent crimes? Even if it is so-called voluntary, how can a person possess the freedom to renounce their own freedom.
How can people pay the price for things they have never done?
As for dangerous mentally ill patients, perhaps they can only be judged after they have an episode? A headache of a question.

At my father’s funeral, I did not feel the slightest bit of dejection or sorrow over his death; the only thing that left a deep impression was the physiologically sickening atmosphere of the funeral, the jarring clamor of pipes and strings, the wailing echoing across the wilds.
During the seven years from the first grade of primary school to the first year of junior high, I only met with them during winter and summer vacations. All other times could be completely described as utterly devoid of tidings. Perhaps at some point, he was cast far behind by me into my kindergarten childhood; throughout the entirety of primary school, the only ones close to me were my paternal grandparents.
Even during winter and summer vacations, I began to doubt whether my smiles toward my parents were a seamless disguise,
The difference between a real smile and a fake smile perhaps lies in whether it can be stopped immediately at will. Many of my smiles toward my mother now are obviously active, controlled smiles.
Like Lao Laizi playing the fool to amuse his parents.

There are a few things that exist in my memories: in the lower grades, out of anger, I refused to communicate with my mother over the phone many times, yet when I subsequently received the plastic toy soldiers sent by my mother, the coexistence of guilt and joy seemed to prove that my anger was likewise a disguise. A disguised emotion.
Because I heard my homeroom teacher say that a certain classmate’s parent worked out of town, yet drove hundreds of kilometers to the school just to attend a brief parent-teacher conference… The homeroom teacher’s inexplicable praise made me, at the time, shamelessly make a request to my mother to take a three-hour bus ride to attend the parent-teacher conference; later, my mother didn’t come, and nothing happened either.
I only remember that both sides of the highway were mountain forests shaded in green, just like a map in a racing game. I sat in the car, sometimes spending the entire trip watching three pre-downloaded episodes of iPartment, and sometimes sleeping.

Junior High

In junior high P.E. class, the black-and-white world in my eyes at the time, like Kousei’s, was obviously already different from that of my classmates back then.
“Look at him, so melancholic”
On the sun-drenched cement road, hurrying toward the sports field that was like an execution ground, my classmate’s casual remark echoed endlessly, echoing until now.
Deadpan Bro
A strange title… a strange title… a strange title… a strange title… I seem to have never voiced my opinion to others about my own nickname, even though I indeed felt displeased at times afterward.
But it never reached the point of angry shouting. As long as they are happy, it’s fine, I really mean it.

The medicine ball a classmate accidentally threw toward me did not make me dodge; of course, he missed as well. My heart indeed tangled in complexity for a split second, but ultimately I did not walk away, watching the red medicine ball gradually descend from the backdrop of the blue sky, gradually approaching me, onto the ground two meters away. Perhaps it was a subconscious evasion that kept me from being smashed to death.
“You’re really brave~ Sorry”
He was definitely the most innocent person of our age; he had a bulky build, yet possessed the smile of a child, as if every class would have such a figure. He scratched his head and walked away to my right; my expression didn’t change much, all blankness and sorrow, and the clouds of blankness and sorrow have shrouded me to this day.

In order to cater to possible customs, in order to make myself look more approachable, perhaps to curry favor with or reassure my classmates, on the first day of boarding at school, in the narrow dormitory aisle, on my lower bunk bed, I stripped stark naked, and tremblingly 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 once a week, and wash my hair once, at school I was so bold.
Heh
I want to tear this memory to shreds.

ZYX

My primary school crush is not in the same class as me!!! Alas!!!
I’m going to die,
…
I still like her. She is so cute, after entering high school, she seems to still be as cute as she was in primary school, so cute,

I really like her expression; it is not a smile with a dagger hidden behind it, it is sincere alertness, it is an expression that could not be more real, it is the same expression, as mine.
I still remember in primary school when she wore fluffy, cute clothes, sat down next to my seat, and started acting out English words. I clearly remember there were two fluffy little pom-poms on her clothes, extremely cute.
She is extremely cute.
I miss her so much.
But I simply cannot talk to anyone at all.
I simply cannot talk to anyone at all, therefore I simply cannot have any communication with her, I seem to have lost the ability to converse.
But, really, just by seeing her, I am so happy.

June 5, 2021, sadly took two weeks of leave at home, the college entrance exam is next week, forced to continue taking leave.
Every time, I schedule my suicide for right when I return to school.

However, even if by the railing I have imagined ten thousand times myself climbing onto the railing like a gymnast, leaning my body outward, and then plummeting into a pool of blood,
if it has never once been put into practice, how can one say that the probability of him committing suicide is high?

Aren’t we all thinking about suicide at every single moment?

16:57, headache, clear, no dusk