I watched a movie in 2012, and I found myself writing this post after looking through the old archives.
I don't remember what thoughts I tried to express at that time, or what emotions to vent, so I just pasted it up.
Not beautiful, not at all. 2012.3.4
I just watched a movie called Suicide Space, and it was very painful to see the end.
Step by step, the grief began to deepen, and in the end, a severe knife was cut into this materialistic world. Now that the sun has risen, why are you dying in pain in the dark again? Wounds, knives, drugs, and death are really not beautiful at all. You are very sensitive and cruelly hurt by the world... I know that I may never understand the feeling of being so desperate to commit suicide, and I will not laugh at how naive it is... But, it should not be.
Did you see her?
She rushed out of the room trembling, limply slumped on the lawn, crying hoarsely to the sky, the gray mass of images in the gray day.
Seeing there, I was speechless, I could only stand in pain, it was painful, but I couldn't cry.
Really, many times, I also resent the world, why don't you understand me, don't understand me at all, can't understand what I'm saying, ask me to explain it over and over again, grab my neck and ask me to stop Speaking of which, what I like, what I dream about, what I am morbidly obsessed with, always gets ridiculed at every turn by my parents and advised by a few others.
But, I know I'm right, every time this time, I'm just like you think, they're nothing.
When I was in elementary school, I was dead-headed and sensitive. I couldn't think about it. I was alone at home, staring at the sky, blind and depressed. When I got bored, I went to the ground and hit the wall. I was afraid of pain. I live, so I can be free from this annoying world. I still remember the buzzing feeling in my head. I still stand on the window sill and imagine if it will hurt to jump down. If I fall, I will definitely break my ribs. ...then the rib pierced into the heart again, and the blood flowed out—it was really painful. Also, I didn't have the guts to ask where sleeping pills were sold, so I let it go.
When I think about it now, I can only think that this rational and numb mentality is probably formed in those stages. Plus, I have read a lot of books, classics, magazines, and youth campuses. So I said, look, the society is so beautiful, but you can't see it, be happier, be happier, just create your own happiness.
I really have been happy until today, not sad, not at all, and I don't know what that heart-piercing feeling is like, is it too happy or too numb?
Hey, it doesn't matter. Now that I'm taking a rational line, there's no need to worry about those literature and art.
It's just that today, I was reminded of old things by your smile shrouded in sunshine that morning.
You cried out to your mother in agony, curled up and died in the bar's clean toilet, your thin face twitching, and then
Web page closed.
I can only be here too, the sensual me, she's clutching her hair in pain, and I'm here to write my journal.
Ever since I started building layers of walls, I never planned to let her out at all. At most, let her glow and give me energy—emotional things, I can't manage it well, I'll cause trouble for myself , causing more trouble for others.
All in all, the conclusion is that I am still so hypocritical. Not enough walls
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