Give a bellflower to the drowning ghost

-20

The season when fireflies have died.

The ranger said: "Good morning, is there anything you want to do today?"

He opened the window, and the sky was gray, with thick clouds stretching continuously.

"It's going to rain," said the ranger.

The air in the house also seemed very stuffy.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to go out today," the ranger said.

He lined up colorful plastic buckets and placed them outside the house to prepare for water storage.

The ranger said, "Do you want to play games together? I'm stuck with the boss."

He bent down to pick up the game console from the ground and put it on the opponent's lap.

The house was very quiet, only the sound of the wind beating against the windows, as if someone would break into the door at any moment.

The ranger said: "I'm stuck on this firefly boss. Every time it glows, I can't dodge the attack. It will be wiped out immediately..."

He turned on the game, and the exaggerated sound effects sounded along with the sound of keys.

Facing the ranger's soliloquy, the writer just sat down on the stool with his hands hanging down at his sides and an online PSV on his lap.

The forest ranger thought, this is normal, and patients with depression are prone to relapse, so it's okay.

It's ok.

-21

The ranger said: "Good morning, is there anything you want to do today?"

Writers occasionally wake up from their own thoughts.He opened his eyes from the bed, his eyes fell on the ceiling, and then on the sleeping bag on the floor.Since being stopped by the ranger at the lake that day, the ranger has chosen to sleep in a sleeping bag, giving up the bed to the writer.

The writer said in a barely audible voice: "No."

The ranger said: "Okay, let's play games after taking the medicine."

The writer slowly met the ranger's gaze: "Don't you need to go to work?"

The ranger walked into the kitchen and brought out breakfast: "There is nothing in this mountain. It doesn't matter if you are lazy for a day or two."

The writer said with difficulty: "It's been a long time since you went down the mountain to buy supplies."

The ranger returned to the bed and gently asked the writer to sit up: "I have some friends at the foot of the mountain. I asked them to buy them and send them up the mountain." He watched the writer slowly put his feet on the floor, put on slippers, and his feet were soft He walked towards the dining table slowly, resisting the urge to reach out to help.

The writer held the bowl, looked at the porridge inside, and said after a while, "I don't want to eat it."

The ranger said, "Okay, how about some hot water?"

The writer shook his head: "I don't want to drink water with added sugar. I want to be alone, why do you hang around me every day?"

The ranger's smile stiffened.

With his back to the writer, he packed up the dishes and said, "Okay, then I'll go out first, you have a good rest, and put your food and drink here."

The writer watched the forest ranger go out, but it was difficult to distinguish whether the situation in front of him was a dream or reality.After he almost saw through the door panel, he stood up, walked to the open window, and leaned out his upper body.

He saw that the ranger was just behind the trunk not far away, watching here motionlessly, like another tree.

-22

The ranger said: "Good morning, is there anything you want to do today?"

"I want to go swimming in the lake," asks the writer.

The ranger moved his fingers, but a gentle smile appeared on his face in time: "Yes, let's go together."

The writer gave him a lifeless look.

They walked towards the lake one after the other.

The forest ranger opened the way ahead, his body tense, turning his head from time to time to check on the writer's condition.

The writer stopped and broke a branch.

The writer said, "Stop it, you're not like you anymore."

The forest ranger reacted quickly, walked up to the writer, and asked him with concern: "What's the matter? Are you tired from walking? It's only a few steps away."

The writer's attempt to free himself from the ranger's approaching hand failed visibly.

The writer said: "Let me go, let yourself go too."

The ranger said: "It's okay, you can go back now, let's go swimming another day."

The writer took a deep breath and pushed the ranger away, then he jerked off his shirt and threw it on the ground.

The ranger bent down and picked up the clothes, but stood up weakly, but slowly hugged the clothes tightly and hid his face.

——That ugly, hypocritical face that forced the other party just to satisfy oneself.

-23

The writer sat cross-legged and said to the ranger, "From the first time we met, you knew what I was here for, didn't you?"

The ranger shook his head silently.

The writer said: "You have done a good job, you have done your best, you are perfect, no one will blame you."

The ranger shook his head, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

The writer stroked the leaves of mimosa: "I also tried my best. I no longer forced myself to work, received regular diagnosis and treatment, took drugs with side effects, and stayed away from the environment that upset me. I tried everything, but I I just can't help it, I can't feel happy, I can't keep all the positive emotions in my heart, I wake up every day, the only thought is how I'm still alive..."

The ranger knelt on the ground, unable to tell whether he was hugging his clothes or himself: "There is still a way, there is definitely a way..."

The writer stretched out his hand and held the ranger's face: "Look at me, look at me carefully, you have always been able to read people's hearts, tell me, what did you see on my face?"

The ranger opened his mouth, but couldn't get the words out.

The writer is undoubtedly in pain, but his expression is so similar to that of his former adoptive father that the ranger can't face his emotions at all.

The writer cried and said: "You can tell the difference clearly. If it is you, it will definitely be fine. No one knows better than you whether I am impulsive or really want to die..."

The ranger wanted to ask, is life so painful?

He wanted to say, maybe after this period, you will be fine?

He also wanted to say that as long as he insisted on taking the medicine every day, he would definitely get better.

But he couldn't say those words.

As the writer said, he can distinguish better than anyone else how painful the writer is every minute and every second, and how much he longs for relief.

He could only nod, admitting it.

The writer reaches out and hugs the ranger.

He buried his face in the ranger's shoulder, and the ranger could feel his tears soaking his clothes.

He hugged him so tightly, it seemed like the next second would be a farewell.

The writer said: "I believe you will understand, you are the only person in this world who understands me... We cannot decide whether we are born in this world, but we can decide whether we will stay or not according to our own will... …I tried, we all tried…”

-24

The forest ranger hugged the writer tightly, and he patted the writer's thin back with his hand, looking away from the distance.

He also cannot choose his birth, nor can he choose whom he is adopted.

But he is still alive.

What is he living for?

What did he rely on every day to get up from his bed?

The ranger whispered, "...if, that's your wish."

If so, that's the only thing I can do for you.