the tree is my life
one branch is a man i should be married
and the leaves are my children
another branch is my futrue of writer
Each leaves is a poem
another branch is my glory academic carrer
But when i sit on it to choose
The leaves trun brown and blow away
to the tree absolutely bare.
--Sylvia
title, a weak mezzo-soprano, slowly talking about this poem, talking about his own life and ideals, the poem is faint Showing his helplessness. "When I was sitting there and choosing my life, I found that the leaves of my tree of life turned yellow and passed away with the wind..."
Sylvia, a talented, beautiful and intelligent woman, has a unique appreciation of poetry Strength and creativity, she is stubborn by nature and loves perfection. This is true for life and the same for love.
She fell in love with the poet Ted at first sight at a dance party. In a short time, Ted took off her earrings as a souvenir, and she bit his cheek.
The two fell in love and appreciated each other, talked about poetry together, discussed life together, explored the source of inspiration together, promised each other, and never separated.
They walked into the hall happily.
In the days with her husband, Sylvia was in a blissful mess. She baked cakes for him, made bread, and spent a good time with him on the beach in summer.
However, she found that gradually, she could not find herself, she could not find inspiration, she scribbled and wrote, and she could not think of a poem that she was satisfied with. She seemed to have become a talented Jiang Lang, and she Her husband became popular, and poetry became popular. In contrast, Sylvia was bleak and dull.
Her talents were covered and buried, anxiety and tension, worries and suspicions, gradually poured into Sylvia's heart. She was nervous that her husband would be robbed by others, and she was afraid that her husband would no longer love her or love one. The self who can't write poetry.
She is inevitable all night, often sitting in the empty room, waiting for her husband to return, dim lights, anxious eyes, at this time Sylvia has no herself, no soul, the more nervous, the more caring, the more afraid of losing , Marriage is like the sand in your hands, the tighter you pull, the faster you lose.
When she found out that her husband had an extramarital affair with a friend's wife, she was heartbroken, burned her own poem, hugged her two children, and resolutely left the hut where they had laughed together. Leaving this period of time, leaving this home.
When she left home, she sat in the car and drove aimlessly, not knowing where she was going. She was standing on the beach, and the roaring sea breeze disturbed her skirt. She thought about diving into the tumbling deep sea. But when she looked back and found that her young child was sitting in the car looking at her, she went back to the car and led her two children, living a single life.
Sylvia, who has experienced pain and kissed intimately with the wound, was surging in her thoughts at this time. She was crying while writing about her anger, her loneliness, and her pain. She kept writing and crying. .
The poem at this time is my own, about my soul and my wounds. Of course, the poems written by Sylvia are the most lethal and powerful poems.
However, the crazy creation did not bring Sylvia's inner peace, on the contrary, it became more and more difficult to sleep at night.
She smiled and said to others, I am fine, and as soon as he leaves, I will be free.
But, in every dark night, the person who licks the wound is himself.
She was happy with her neighbor who was as loving as a father, and said to him: I'm tired, so tired.
She said: Behind my eyes is a darkness and emptiness.
She was very nervous, caring, sensitive, and fragile. Her soul was not comforted and was filled with pain.
She called the doctor and wanted to get help. She started taking medication, but she found that no matter how hard she struggled, she would not get better, and her heart was still empty.
She knows that she fantasizes about changing herself, changing her life, trying new things, reconciling with her husband, walking back to the house where she lived before, and living a normal life. When all nightmares have never happened, she understands all this It's all a dream, just a dream.
She said: I couldn't bear happiness, so I had to split myself in half.
She is herself and can only be herself.
Be the one who is submerged in the void.
She wants to go to sleep, she wants to sleep
deeply ... "The room is completely locked. It is very dangerous.
There is no window. There is
only a small compartment in it.
There is no way out."
Sylvia closed the room, turned on the gas, and closed her eyes peacefully. .
Left a collection of poems-"Elf" for the world to recite.
Does every writer and poet have to go through painful struggles to achieve a great work? Does everyone have a sad story that is a complete life?
Until now, I still can’t conceal my sadness. When there is no one, I often feel sad. I still can’t sit by your side in sadness and watch the clouds rise and fall with you. I can only meditate on you in my heart. :How are you?
Everyone has a sadness, I want to hide it but
I want to cover it up, you are the wound I can't say, I want to forget, but I can't help but think back,
I want to wander, stumble all the way, your bondage cannot be released...
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