At three-thirty in the morning, my thoughts are swirling, my heart is a mix of red and white, like a play. Beijing kids and Forrest Gump, how far am I from deceiving myself? This article is a reflection written during sleeplessness, belonging to nonsense—feel free to ignore it.
Smoking#
I feel an itch to smoke, but I can't learn how. Then there are various pressures, and those who don't understand say (physically and mentally) to listen. I think my standard for living healthily alone is to go to bed early and rise early, reducing bad habits. I had a headache around two o'clock, got up to meditate. Anxiety always arises with breathing, while happiness comes as quickly as breath. This is what I guess is the daily psychology of many homebodies; what’s online is probably just to amuse children. If a person doesn't want anything meaningful, then they are this 👍
Drinking#
Alcohol feels like an angel talking to me, embracing me. But I can't drink; I turn red as soon as I do. So sometimes I feel like I should do something else to enrich my life, because my long-standing curiosity about this and that has led me to dislike going out. When I go out, I get drunk, and everything feels like I haven't done anything. So sometimes I enjoy wandering in places where no one is around, talking to myself on the road with headphones on; it actually feels quite good. I’ve started to feel that a life of drunkenness is like an angel, as it can always heal the belittling and ridicule from my family of origin. I’ve begun to enjoy biking, fishing, taking photos, and chatting with old men and women; they have their own universe—while I only have the courage to drink.
Betel Nut#
They always say the same old things, but it’s really just one thing—anxiety. There’s always a search for meaning in the mundane, a quest for success in one’s twenties. I’m already on my third seven-year itch, feeling like I’ve just learned to take a step forward in life. Thus comes (the first step to success?) as others say: when the sky falls, one must first make a joke; soothe oneself before taking action. This is the spiritual victory method we don’t endorse, the long gown we should discard. But treating rural people like pigs and driving them to the city—exploiting our labor and lives, for some money, for some interests, has spurred us on. I’m even a bit moved: moved by the joy of encouragement, moved by the triviality of risking one’s life, moved by the world that seems like a prison. I also want to simply chew betel nut and spit it out. Chew the second betel nut and spit it out. Those that fall on the ground and those spat on the manhole cover, those who have enjoyed them always seem very busy. Betel nut helps many people relieve the pressure in their bodies, strengthening their jaws. I loved chewing betel nut in elementary school, enjoying that cool feeling; perhaps as a child, I only felt this, but as I grew up, it felt hard.
Love#
After talking about these three good things, I feel much better. Like exhaling the last breath, I don’t want to inhale any more air. Many times, when I look at people, I always feel they don’t seem fierce enough. Like a little lamb curiously exploring a human, humans have always learned to deceive and exploit—until I close my eyes, I still fantasize about the world’s wonders. But actually: this is what a normal person should dream of after falling asleep. In old age, nursing homes bully those without children, probably because no one will bother the caregivers. So many people mature at the “mature” age and give birth at the “reproductive” age. The growth of children is actually very important—this concerns old age! Smart humans deceive children, while profit-driven humans exploit children.
Sadness#
In contrast, after observing certain worldly matters, one becomes indifferent to fame and fortune, content to stay within bounds? Perhaps some people only seek a simple life, but often someone has to pay. Truly kind people actually do so to cover their evil; the more they try to hide, the more they reveal the side that looks most “human.”
Loss#
Living, or, the living. I don’t have much to say; perhaps if I say more, it would belong to what cannot be spread. Being too clear is inconvenient and not very good; I like a term used by young people—loss! Because this is really not pretentious; I genuinely like it.
Finally, let’s say something#
How should I stabilize my emotions? How should I balance this person who is so numerous that the naturally fearful introvert twists into an extrovert? What should I be sad about, and what should I celebrate joyfully? Actually, it’s all caused by too many 🦌, writing it out is enough.