I have been brainwashed more than once by various road movies/travel journals/travel blogger vlogs, and imagine that one day I can put aside all trivial matters and embark on a journey of a year and a half. After walking through the mountains and the sea, my heart is full of mountains and valleys, and when I return, my whole person looks completely new, and I can't think of it. But what is the reality? I can't afford a plane ticket for two or three days, I can't let go of the scraps of life, and I can't take the pace of traveling alone. So, depending on the mountain or the mountain, or the water or the water, what I think about every day is still garbage grades, bad interpersonal relationships, and the anxiety of not achieving anything. Then I told myself, wait a minute, what can't I do when I make money back? Lijiang's bar, open his mother's, travel to Tibet, go to his mother's, small farms in the countryside, buy his mother's. Everything is left to be done later, everything is left to the money to solve. But sometimes I think, how can I guarantee that I still have the energy and courage to go out? How can I guarantee that I will not hide in the nut shell of civilization and "live for other people's copper, die for other's copper, and be buried by other's copper"? Or more realistically, how can I be sure that my financial strength will one day satisfy all of my fantasies? Or maybe I haven't changed at all when I'm on the road? Consumption, payment, walking, feeding, every move is just changing the environment to continue the original behavior pattern, and what I see and think will eventually be swallowed up by the powerful forgetting power.
But the dream is still to be done, and the road is still to go. Being caught in the mud of modern society is already difficult, and I have to defend to the death my right to dream and escape. I envy Daniel, he knew what he wanted and how to get it, even though he died on the road. It is a dignity to die soberly, after all, most deaths are either a compromise or surrender to the world. And what I want is reconciliation with the world. I will never come to the end that life chose me, not me. I'm never going to be like she said, "When I was young I was too busy, and now that I'm older, I'm too tired."
When the four of them met in the hotel room, I remembered the night in a small town a few years ago. It was also such a spacious room with seven or eight people, with wine, tea, sofa, TV, laughter, and stories. After that, there are few pure happy nights, and there is absolutely no chance for the four people in the film to sleep outdoors. Maybe the end of the story is the same. Friends left one after another on the shore of the turbulent waves, and plunged into their secular life without hesitation to clean up the mess. There is nothing wrong with this, after all, without the secular, there is no poetic and picturesque, and there is no so-called sublime.
If I were independent, physically, I could pretty well make it on my own. Mentally, I could think my own thoughts, I could move from one level of abstraction to another. I could think creatively and analytically and organize and express my thoughts in understandable ways. Emotionally, I would be validated from within. I would be inner directed. My sense of worth would not be a function of being liked or treated well.
I will still long for independent thinking, clear cognition. But emotional independence may be my unattainable goal after all, because my life without emotions is a piece of shit.
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