Adults say we are kids growing up in a honey pot. You don't need to think about the tedious affairs of the family since you were a child, you don't need to sigh when you eat food all day long, and you don't need to look forward to the New Year 364 days out of 365, just because there will be delicious cakes on New Year's Eve. We grew up with ready-made pocket money sitting at the head of the bed just waiting to be stuffed into our pockets, and when beautiful clothes were crowded and hung in the closet, and we were embarrassed about which one to wear before going out. Girls have blond Barbies and boys have tough Transformers. Everything, everything logically puts us in the category of "happiness". In fact, we are just very close to happiness, within reach and out of reach.
The adults who bring us material-filling things never really get close to the world of children. Or maybe, if we open the world to them, they may not be able to come in.
In our world, heavy test papers are piled up on the table. When we look up, the energy-saving lights are dazzling. All around us is a long, dead night.
In our world, angular anime characters appear on the TV screen for the first time. They were reprimanded by their parents and cut off their sight. They rubbed their swollen eye sockets in front of the desk, thinking about it and feeling sad again.
Our world is a loneliness without brothers and sisters, the blond dolls in the room are lifeless, the rapid fission of society is caught off guard, and only oneself turns around and secretly covers the wet eyes.
This is the loneliness of a group of people, the crux of an era.
This is the world of our children, labelled "happiness" by the world, but in fact a world at the center of a hurricane.
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