The Seventh Year of Searching for "Missing Writing"

After years of tampering and fabrication, I can't help but sigh when I think of the past.

Ten years have passed. That day, I suddenly saw a child wearing the uniform of my alma mater riding a bicycle past me. I just stared at the name of my alma mater printed on the back of his school uniform and waited for a while until his figure disappeared into the endless street. Ten years later, the school uniform hasn't changed at all, and it's still so ugly-let's just say that youth is beautiful enough, and there's no need to embellish it.

After the boy's back disappeared, I couldn't help thinking that at this time ten years ago, on such a sunny afternoon, I should have waited for my classmates to return to school in the classroom with a unwilling face: the students who came into the classroom one after another packed up what they had brought from home, chatted, began to wait for the head teacher to call the roll, began to study at night, and began to catch up with the papers that were not finished at the weekend, and rumbled on the table to move books. And then a new week.

At that time, I started writing with stacks of homework papers in countless evening self-study-we read, write and play the guitar between classes, self-study, exams and problem solving; We like movies and music, and we save some change from our meals to buy DVDs, precious CDs, books, magazines and posters. Reading any books and periodicals will be carefully extracted and bound into a book with thick pages. ...

This is a green day.

It is also a green heart.

What do we have now and what have we lost?

When I am financially independent, I don't need to be hungry to save money to buy CDs, but I am no longer interested in collecting movies; When I have free time, and I don't have to face evening self-study and endless class exams, I no longer have the desire to talk about writing.

A sign of growth is silence-because life is getting more and more complicated, because it is difficult to talk, unable to talk, unwilling to talk, or unable to talk.

And unexpectedly, unexpectedly, all these changes happened quietly. Sometimes I can't help asking, when did we get to today and become like this?

After I started my life independently, I got off work every day, packed my computer and files, put away my smiling face and left the office. After the blocked intersection, between tall buildings, between traffic, between smoke and dust ... there are people rushing everywhere: cars, bicycles, battery cars, pedestrians, and everyone is scrambling to push forward together. Because everyone has his own direction, everything is even less orderly and humble. Violent horns and swearing mouths on strangers' faces ... I feel terrible when I look at this life.

One afternoon in the winter of 20 10, in a Muslim restaurant in Dongzhimen, Beijing, the photographer Mr. Wang Zheng, another friend and I talked about these mutton dishes everywhere.

He said: The world is gray, there is no absolute white, and there is no absolute black. Like a long spectrum, different shades of gray are spread all over the world at different levels.

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When we were teenagers, we were fragile, tough, extreme, sharp, black and white, like sharp blades, and always hurt others easily. Later, the blade gradually became dull and rusty ... but it was no longer easy to hurt others, and it became a knife with a story.

I never liked pop songs very much, especially now. Even if you enter KTV, you will always only sing old songs from those years and refuse to accept all new albums. Only that day, I occasionally heard Rene Liu's "To My Fifteen-year-old Self" and was moved by the lyrics, and almost burst into tears.

"You know, I've been thinking about it.

You are unhappy at fifteen.

How I want to make you cry.

Come into my arms.

Not sure of one's shape

Collision with the world at every turn.

I finally feel sorry for those injuries.

They were all smoothed out one by one.

……"

If I can, I really want to go back to 15 years old and tell myself: you are very happy after ten years, stick to it.

I have been living my life wholeheartedly: although most of the time it is just a maze. But I didn't stop paddling when I didn't know anything. As for where I will go, it depends on God's arrangement. Only this pulp in my hand is the principle of my life and value, and I have never abandoned it. If there is anything to be proud of in the past, it is probably the only thing worth mentioning.

Now, I am finally completely immersed in the truth of life. Every busy and hurried day, every tired and dreamy night is like a nail, fixing the skeleton of life. Am I afraid that this life will become more and more like a straight alley, and I will see the end at a glance?

Some days are really far away. Writing becomes like an old lover. I will miss her from time to time and ask myself why I left her in the first place. After all, she spent so many nights with you. She has lived your life for a long time and influenced you to this day.

She is like a sunken ship, disappearing from the surface of your life and sinking into your heart.

Life often makes me fidgety.

Those blocked intersections, speakers, dust, phlegm, garbage, cold and empty faces. Only the world of writing calms me down. Just like walking in the misty forest in the early morning, the air is clear as a spring, there are mountains and seas in my heart, and my body is as light as a swallow.

Chengdu is really a gentle city. It only rains at night. There are not so many naked sunny days, as if I just don't want you to understand life, and then come to a sunny sunny day when you are most desperate and make people dance happily. Silently saying that the world is so gentle that you don't need to travel reminds people of how to cut the candle at the west window together, but talk about the rain at night.

It suddenly occurred to me that if a person's body and mind can be like "the window of Xiling contains snow, and the door of Wu Dong Wan Li is moored", what a great thing it would be.

Born in the sky, you shouldn't forget to fly.

This article is included in the January issue of Germination 20 13.

If satisfied, hope to adopt.