I am always grateful for small favors. When I was a child, the aunt who packed my lunch sent me a plate of edamame. I happily went home and told my mom, "Look, she sent edamame!" My mom remembered this for a long time, implying that I was easily bought by a plate of edamame. She said, "I've raised you for so long, but I haven't seen you grateful to me." My mom has felt unbalanced for many years. I think it's only natural. Since I was born, I have occupied most of her life, except for work, it's all about me. I don't want to lose most of my life like her, even though having a child would be a special experience, the risks are too high.
In my early twenties, hormones were raging, thinking that there was nothing to lose, not cherishing myself, and lazy to judge the authenticity of relationships. I grew into a mess of weeds, with occasional moments of blooming quickly fading away. I always sought validation from others, thinking that everyone else seemed more fulfilled than me. So I wanted to find out what everyone else found meaningful, only to realize that very few actually found it, and having something to do was considered good enough. After searching for years, I was determined to create my own little world.
Although not yet clear-headed, I unknowingly distanced myself from those vines that always entangled others, thinking that being with me would give them meaning. The long-term lack of response made even the stalkers give up on me. I used to think I should accommodate or tolerate other people's aggressions because someone told me that these aggressions are often caused by pain, and I should understand and empathize with them. But I found that I couldn't persist because they also caused me pain. For a long time, I became fragile and suspicious, unable to enjoy the simple pleasures of socializing with others, relying on electronic junk at home, and seeing various human faces in various media like a revolving lantern, accumulating thick layers of moss, surviving in darkness and dampness. Even after cutting off the vines, it took a long time to stand upright again and see the sunlight.
After spending too long in the dark, when I saw the sunlight in Guangzhou, I was almost stunned, not knowing how to react. I felt very shy and couldn't look directly at it. But that moment seemed to freeze into ice crystals, shining in a corner of my memory filled with mushrooms. There was a part of me in that sunlight too, thinking this way, I felt very fortunate and gained confidence. Constantly sucking on sour oranges, my illness was cured. It really is a tropical place, delicious, cheap, and happy. I really want to come back every July in the future.
The reality of the sun is truly scorching. When I got off the subway and dragged my suitcase home in Hangzhou, I couldn't walk anymore. I wanted to give money to the delivery guy on the side of the road to take me home, but he said, "I'm free anyway, so I'll take you." When we reached the entrance of the residential area, I handed him the money, but he gently pushed my hand away, turned around, and rode off on his electric scooter. I was stunned again. If edamame promotes sales, then this journey of idleness has no benefit. I, a meticulous person, was still calculating how much it would cost to charge the electric scooter and the cost of labor for five minutes. I had to keep this kindness in my heart, as if it could resist some of the increasing hostility in today's society. The cover image is a sample of Persian red grass that died after being sun-dried at home.
At the end of July 2024, I started a new life. I have no attachment to the past and am full of expectations for the future. People in the world are diverse, and I want to arrogantly become myself.