I crossed the red light.
Standing in the middle of the road,
I suddenly realized, how important my life is.
It seems that only at the moment of death, we understand that being alive is
also a burden.
Countless times I have read these sad words, countless times I have been
heartbroken, to the point of suffocation.
I really want to write something, but I don't know what to write.
Only in the middle of the night, relying on the dim light.
With intricate words, I wrote on blank paper.
Those fonts that I couldn't even understand, those articles that seemed like a
running account.
But they perfectly interpreted my thoughts and everything inside me at this
moment.
Perhaps I'm just looking for a way to vent.
Nowadays, words are like me, replacing the me who is not good at expressing.
Unbearable depression, uncontrollable yearning, unspeakable sadness, and
irreparable desolation.
Life still goes on plain and unremarkable, but I feel more real than ever.
Looking back on what I have experienced, it was tortuous and bizarre.
This heart, which is not yet twelve years old, is scarred and precocious.
I, who am in the prime of youth,
have already learned to wear a false mask.
Now.
I only watch people or things with a cold eye.
I have a "not my business" attitude towards everything around me.
This heart has been worn out like a calm lake.
No waves, no ups and downs. It's like a dead lake.
The surface of the lake is so clear, but the water is as muddy as sand and mud. |