Youth Notes

I excitedly rode to her house, the side room of the gate, full of excitement and anxiety, shyness and longing.

I came out like a general because she warmed to me and smiled at me.

I am a prisoner of war who has discarded his helmet and armor, a defeated general, a thief and traitor with his tail between his legs, and I rolled out in despair.Because she was neither hot nor cold to me, neither salty nor light, she was expressionless and silent.

Facing the wind with tears streaming down my face, I rode out quickly. I didn't go home, I rode all the way to the river, and poured my tears into the river.She snubbed me, she was arrogant, she was impatient.

Actually, we are not always happy.More more is not happy.I.unhappy.sad.sad.pain.pain.pain.

In the winter of the first year of high school, I turned 16 years old. 16 years old is an age that has already begun to vicissitudes.

I locked myself in the high pavilion, the sound of wind and rain, the sound of birds and insects singing and dogs barking, all of which I cared about.To listen to the sounds of nature is to listen to loneliness.My heart is lonely, my heart is sad.How to relieve worries, only Du Kang.Without Dukang, worries and thoughts are unforgettable.When a person fills one's heart, when one person fills one's own world, when one person turns into thousands of images and hides in every corner of the world, and turns into everything in the world, how unbearable is the feeling, why is the heart not bitter. Why is there no vicissitudes at the age of 16?

I can't drown my sorrows with wine, I wash my face with tears.I cry at every turn and can't stop.I understand what is miss, what is love, what is torture.I became irritable and restless.When she couldn't stay in the small house, she ran out and stood in the dark night looking at the street lights, the intersection she must pass when she came.miss her.miss her.She won't come, and she won't come when she doesn't want to.I am the statue of every night in the cold winter.

If she doesn't come, I'll go.I went, with the heart that life and death are uncertain.My nerves have expanded all over the sky, sensitive like silk, like wind like air, everywhere, reaching everywhere, just the slightest touch, surging ups and downs, trembling and crazy.I went, I became a general, a prisoner of war, and a resentful girl by the river.I laugh.I cry.I cry.I laugh.

I like it, there is no way not to like it.She is my world, and I cannot leave this world.

I found the yellow moon, in the spring, the watery spring.The yellow moon hangs outside my window, and when I wake up in the morning, as soon as I open my eyes, it catches my eyes.So big, so fresh, so close, it seems to have peeped into my sleep all night, which makes me frightened, sad, and distressed, as if I saw the lover who silently accompanied me to sleep.When did everything in the world become my lover, whether she was there or I was there, and what was there, touched my thoughts.

春风 它 吻上 了 的 脸

告诉 我 现在 是 春天

虽 说 是 不 觉晓

只有 那 偷 才 高眠

……

When I was in middle school, I never slept in late, and I always woke up when I was "kissed" by the morning breeze.The kiss of the spring breeze is most like a "kiss", wet and greasy.Spring, this is the rainy south, I have always disliked spring, just because it is rainy, especially the rain that can't stop falling, hesitant, long-winded and endless.But when I was 16 years old, I fell in love with spring rain, as if I was fascinated in autumn, and I was fascinated in spring again. With the breeze, it turned into spring rain, floating all over the sky and all over the ground.Spring rain, at night, during the day, it seems to be me, I can almost call it a bosom friend.

A bosom friend who broke my heart.That crazy girl is the light rain in March that can never end.

light rain in march

patter, patter, patter

patter patter nonstop

creek in the valley

哗 啦 啦 啦 啦

blah blah blah blah

Who is the rain for

For whom does the brook flow

with my sadness

light rain in march

You can know that I am full of loneliness

……

Such songs are played repeatedly in the tape recorder, and these are the feelings that are repeatedly told.desolate.lonely.lonely.desolate.my state of mind.

In winter, I thought I was going to die, and I was ready to die.Because my arms are full of red blood spots, like Sachiko in the Japanese TV series "Blood Doubt".I want to read the books and materials to see what's wrong.In the end, I found out that I had leukemia.

The feeling of death has been there since childhood.

When I was a child, I was always scratched and bitten by cats, and I was worried about getting rabies all day long.Mom said it was okay, it was a cat who scratched and bit, not a dog.My mother scolded me when I mentioned it twice, and my wish to get vaccinated fell through.Rabies is too terrifying, not only because of the certainty of death, but also because of talking "dog talk", barking like a dog, crawling like a dog, drooling, and barking.I still have to be isolated, and I can no longer stay with "people".There are too many such rumors and examples around me. I wonder why those adults are so brave, always describing these people vividly, these people who have turned into dogs, their eating, drinking, pulling, and spilling, their "" What a dog says and what a dog does."Sometimes adults make fun of children and scare them.

I kept flipping through the biggest and thickest "Health Common Sense" at home.The book describes in detail the cause, process, and outcome of rabies.I stared at the word "cat" juxtaposed with the dog in a daze, as if I had been sentenced to death, and I was in a state of panic all day long, calculating whether I was afraid to hear the sound of water at that time, and whether there was any feeling of ants crawling at that time.If I haven't had an attack for a month, I can feel a little more relieved, and if I haven't had an attack for two months, I can feel more relieved, but I can't be completely relieved. It is clearly written in the book that the incubation period of rabies can last up to ten or twenty years.

There is no end to the time in which this cloud drifts.

A similar cloud now fills my sky.

In winter, my sister turned against me, saying that I had been pushing all the housework to her, and I would just hide upstairs and study hard, and my academic performance was of course better.As for her, a child who has been asked to cook, sweep the floor and wash clothes since she was a child, her academic performance is of course poor. A girl who is always asked to work and always scolded for her poor academic performance, she is so wronged and pitiful.My sister accused me, she wrote a letter and slipped it under my door.I said that I was hateful, selfish, and I hated myself, anyway, I would disappear soon, and it didn't matter how my sister blamed me.My sister was terrified. She sneaked up to my door every day to observe my movements. The child was worried that her sister would commit suicide because of her stimulation.

Why fight, why explain, why argue.I should not have come to this world.I don't think I should come, I don't need to live in this world anymore.I don't know how to live, I don't know what is meaningful and what is meaningless, I have lost the standard of judgment, let alone the ability to act.No matter who, I am not an indispensable figure.I am small, like a speck of dust in the universe.I don't know what I am, what is the value of her being alive.I don't know when it started, I don't know why, I just live in this state.

That winter, my mother peeked at my sister's diary, and became silent every day, often wiping tears.This rude, uneducated rural woman would swear at people all day long. How could she deserve to marry a county leader as his wife?This is what my sister wrote in her diary.The younger sister was terrified by her mother's expression and behavior, and carefully observed to please her mother.

We are still isolated islands.

Can a person who can only learn be considered an excellent person?

My sister blamed me.I don't know what it means to be excellent now.

When we were young, my father always asked us: What kind of family do we plan to be when we grow up?What about mathematicians, or astronomers?Or something else?Teachers often let us set up lofty ideals, and emphasize that what is called "big" must be someone, a celebrity, a hero.In short, he is a special "character", admired and loved by all people, and praised by all.Our movies and books have portrayed so many heroic sons and daughters, leaders of the wind and cloud, and stars shine brightly in our beautiful and vast sky.Aspiring to be a star is a lofty ideal, and striving to become a star is excellent.

It is impossible to be successful in hiding in the house, and you must go out to know the world.We should be ashamed of being ordinary people as ideals.I hate cooking, sweeping the floor and washing clothes, but I would rather plant seedlings and cut rice in the fields, and move bricks and mud.Leaving home to do anything in the "vast world" is fun, but staying in the house and doing everything is boring.I don't know if my thoughts and feelings come from the influence of the times, or if it's just my nature.It's like my father can't stand staying at home without going out for a day, and he is still in high spirits after running around outside and working hard.Or my nature is a person who loves to go out, a person who loves to cheat.

There is no girl who works so hard to move bricks, tiles, and mud like me. They like to chat slowly, or just get together to chat and let the male classmates get tired. This is a boy's business.I don't understand this truth, I just can't do it like them.People like me who don't like cooking and washing clothes are labor activists in school.Or maybe my subconscious mind always thought I was a boy.Who knows?At the age of fifteen or sixteen, I never knew how to discuss these issues, just like I wore my brother's shoes and my father's clothes, and I never considered what was wrong with it.

Our stars are in the sky, there will be no stars on the ground.My mind is in heaven, but my form is on earth.I don't know where I live.

We are islands.I am Han Xing.We are people who don't know why and how to live.