That sunshine, so cold. In the blink of an eye, I've been out for a few years. Once, I thought I would no longer be trapped by emotions. When I came out, I even told myself: don't yearn for that non-existent emotion. Be free and easy. But I couldn't help myself after just a few short months. Because I had no goal, my life was in chaos. I didn't know why I was living or what I should pursue.
Since I became aware at thirteen, I have continuously discarded one feeling after another, becoming unmoved by worldly affairs, even cold and ruthless. But deep in my heart, there is still a feeling that I know is my only weakness, the deepest hidden emotion. I set her as my goal in my heart, constantly searching, silently waiting, just hoping to meet her one day. In the process of searching, I lost a lot of things others consider precious, but I don't care. I am used to disguising myself with an indifferent appearance. Some people say I am hypocritical, I agree; some people say I am proud, I admit it; some people say I am like a monster, I remain unmoved. I just live my lonely days.
Sometimes I wonder: are there things around me worth cherishing? Don't miss them and then regret. Don't leave without a trace. So every day I fold a star to record my mood, and then I realize I have nothing left to record, indifferently passing through the day, not even knowing how I spent today, not knowing what to leave behind.
Sometimes when I see others living together like brothers, I feel envious yet disdainful. They often talk about their lives with their families or listen to others talk about their harmonious and beautiful families. My heart aches, and when I look back, I find my memories of my family blank. A friend once said: a person's life is divided into three parts; the first is learning, filled with happy childhood memories, innocent years, romantic processes, sweet recollections of life; the second is initially recognizing the world, learning independence, setting life goals, moving forward, hard and painful; the third is clarifying one's thoughts, walking one's own path, heading towards the end. Interconnected and mutually supportive. But now I haven't achieved any of these... My friend recently asked me, have you achieved what you said? I was speechless, could only evade with the harshness of reality, because I couldn't answer, and she just gave me a cold laugh.
Looking back on the past, I found I knew a lot, but subconsciously ignored it, a form of self-protection, because I was afraid of getting hurt. People come and go in life, so what was invisible becomes visible, what was remembered is forgotten.
Suddenly, I thought of my late grandfather, and my heart was filled with sorrow, tears welling up in my eyes. My father always said that my grandfather was used to enjoying life when he was young, and became very delicate in his old age. I didn't think so. Sometimes when my grandfather did things, I always accommodated him. But because of the reasons from the older generation in our family, sometimes I was powerless to help. Every time my grandfather saw me come home, he was very happy, asking this and that, and I answered all of them sincerely. He had three grandsons and two granddaughters, the youngest granddaughter adopted, although we were together every day, he didn't love her much. The grandsons, some working, some doing labor, some studying, but he always missed them. At home, he insisted on living alone, cooking alone, and the older generation agreed, though they often argued about it, saying it was unnecessary, that my grandfather was too indulgent. But I didn't think so. Every time our family gathered, eating together made my grandfather extremely happy, smiling throughout the meal. He liked being alone just to avoid adding psychological burdens to his children, not wanting them to worry too much. But they didn't understand. Who knows how much he wanted the whole family to be happy and peaceful, enjoying the joy of family, yet not wanting his children's lives to be difficult, so he lived alone. Who knows that he deliberately tormented himself, making himself sick, just to make his children pay more attention to him. Unfortunately, they didn't understand, and my grandfather eventually passed away in sadness.
On a summer afternoon, my father stopped me and asked if I wanted to go to the hospital with my aunt to take care of my grandfather. At first, I wasn't willing, but later I went. My grandfather accidentally fell and injured his head seriously when he got up to sleep at night. My uncle discovered it in the morning, immediately told my aunt, and rushed him to the hospital. My aunt was worried that my uncle couldn't handle it alone, so she asked me to go. When we arrived at the hospital, the doctor stitched my grandfather's wound and did a CT scan, finding that he had cerebral hemorrhage, with two wounds that might hinder the nerves, but currently no major problems.
I thought it was no big deal and wanted to go home immediately. I hated hospitals and didn't want to stay, but I didn't know how to tell my aunt. Later, during a break, I told my uncle that I was allergic to the hospital atmosphere and wanted to go home. He said I should tell my aunt, but I said no need, and left. After I returned, I learned that my aunt had informed my second uncle, who didn't want to come, claiming he was busy at work. My aunt was angry and told my uncle beside my grandfather, who might have heard it, feeling sad that even the only grandson at home didn't want to take care of him, and none of his sons came to see him. That night, he couldn't hold on anymore. When I was woken up in my sleep and learned that my grandfather had passed away, I was stunned, feeling empty inside. Although my grandfather didn't say anything before he died, I understood his feelings, and silently followed my father to receive his body. I wanted to cry, but there were no tears. All my tears were shed when I was thirteen, leaving only emptiness, helplessness, and sorrow. Now thinking about it, I really want to cry in front of my grandfather's grave, to make up for the tears I owe him.
When I started working, I scolded myself for wanting to give up on emotions and live well. But then I met a girl. At the time, I didn't want anything to happen between us. I just wanted to treat her like a younger sister, to try the taste of family affection. Later, I don't know how, but we ended up together, becoming lovers. At the time, I was scared because the time I spent with her coincided with the time of my first love. I feared the re-enactment of a painful tragedy, so I restrained myself, not wanting our relationship to develop too quickly. Every night lying in bed, I kept asking myself, questioning my heart, what was wrong with me? But I didn't know, until more than two months later I accepted everything. I didn't want to hurt a girl who was good to me.
Gradually, I got used to being with her, slowly accepting her. Although I didn't want to admit it, it seemed absurd, but the facts wouldn't allow me to deny it. I repeated my past experiences again. From acceptance in November to sweetness in December, to sadness and separation during the New Year. It was like repeating a play, just with different actors. The reason for our breakup was because she was engaged. I wondered, was I too attached, or are women naturally so cruel? Society always spreads rumors about girls committing suicide or jumping off buildings because of failed relationships or being abandoned. Men seem so fickle, but I didn't think so. Every man has a first love, and maybe during their first love, they were deeply hurt by women, so men become indifferent, not caring anymore. And when another feeling comes, it doesn't feel like the first love, so when they feel it's not right, they let go. It's helpless and unavoidable. As a man, you're born with many heavy pressures, so you won't let yourself collapse. You have responsibilities to bear. After being hurt, you'll subconsciously protect yourself from further harm. Women, on the other hand, don't cherish what they have, and when they need it, it's too late. They get hurt, can't bear it, which is laughable, pitiful, and lamentable. As for me, I don't know what kind of person I am. I only know that, lacking family and friendship, I regard love as everything. When I'm not emotionally involved, I'm cold as ice, but once I fall in love, it's like pouring water, fierce and extravagant. When I'm hurt, it feels like losing half of my soul, feeling empty, helpless, and hopeless. Fortunately, I've experienced enough setbacks, so I maintain a bit of rationality in the face of any situation to save myself.
Recent emotional entanglements have made me confused, chaotic, not knowing where to go or how to end it. On the road of emotions, I seem to understand a lot, yet seem to understand nothing... I often wonder, why am I alive, for whom am I living. I find myself so helpless, always feeling burdened with responsibility. But I don't know how to fulfill it. I want to embrace the sky, but even a fool knows it's an illusion; I want to kiss the sea, perhaps one day I will sink into it forever; when I want to hold the moon's hand, I realize how far away she is. Everything is a fantasy, everything is empty.
I really want to burst into tears in the arms of a good friend, telling my inner voice, I'm tired, my heart is tired. Young as I am, I always carry a silent heart, without a hint of vitality. But why... why... It's just a matter of emotion, why can't I let go? Is it a characteristic or a flaw in my personality? I only feel that I have something more than others, yet less than others.
Crying has always been far from men, but I really want to cry, loudly. I don't understand, is it because I owed someone too much in my previous life that I have to repay with sincerity in this life? My heart is fragile, never given warmth or nourishment, only taken away, broken, shattered. How should I walk the future road, I don't know. I want to quietly sleep, never wake up, leaving only the message that I once existed in this world.
Sometimes looking at the sky, I feel it's no longer blue; looking at the earth, I feel a sudden deathly silence; occasionally touching the light, its feeling is like burning myself; blinking to look at the stars, they are no longer bright, no longer brilliant, just flickering like lamps about to go out. I want to get drunk, but after getting drunk, I realize I am even more sober. Songs can't be sung too long, but their aftertaste lasts forever; prayers can't be spoken, but they can be silently guarded, blessed every day.
Yearning, missing, meeting, better not to meet. "Lying alone on the tower because of temporary yearning, drinking alone to resolve thousands of grievances." Knowing each other well, but now sighing over parting. The farthest distance in the world is when you are close but feel as distant as the ends of the earth. Cried, tears dried, sighed, more worried. Walking quietly under the sun, they say "It's so hot," but I feel, that sunshine, so cold...
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