When you ran away from home for your dreams, did you ever think about how anxious your parents were.
It's all for the love of you. So when you are young, you can be willful. But when you grow up, you have to live up to your parents' expectations and shoulder your own responsibilities.
And Peter Pan never grows up. If you don't give up your feelings, you will naturally have no sorrow.
Lately I often feel like I am a child. Strangely, when I was a child in the body, I never admitted to being a child. I feel like I have grown up every year, and I have grown a lot every year. Knowing more and more and multiplying, and I have grown exponentially, since a long time ago, I feel that I have grown up. Even, a little old.
It is said that today's children often have a sense of vicissitudes, followed by sadness, brokenness, pain, and nothingness. There is a saying that adults love to say to young people, which is called "forcing new words to talk about sorrow"; there is also a word that healthy people love to use to patients called "moaning without a problem". Correspondingly, the patients will also resentfully reply: standing and talking without back pain, with a pair of tearful eyes.
When I look at the world with old and painful eyes, the world is so young and ignorant, so young that I disdain to understand it because it is what it is; so ignorant that I do not want to talk to it anymore because it is as poor as I am. How empty the world is, just like me.
But now, every year I feel that I am getting smaller and fresher day by day - you don't know when that heart will fall and grow again.
I used to be strong and old, not growing up, but getting old. What is it?
There is always meat that falls off, you can’t pick it up again, and no new meat grows; your face and mood are always wrinkled, and you don’t know how to heal it; you always see the world and yourself a little dirty The taste of it; always the things that you were unwilling, dared, and could not say and do in the past, you will do everything one by one. When you see that there are people who are unwilling and dare not do it, there is a crooked smile that floats to the corners of your mouth. But in fact - you don't know who you are laughing at; you are always helpless, give in, and your steps are chaotic; you are always abandoned, hurt, resentful; When you are an enemy, you seem to be able to maintain the only remaining confidence to say: Look.
Old is to die. Well, I did get old and almost died.
Healthy people say that they are fussing about their problems. That's right, that means standing and talking without backache. Those who haven't been cut can't imagine the pain of the split; those who haven't been shrouded in darkness can't know what kind of darkness it is; People who have been in despair really can't understand, the feeling of being strangled by the neck and breathless, it's worse than death. There is a most rogue saying to those who seek death: if you are not afraid of death, why are you afraid of life? A person who seeks death has never been afraid of death, because he has not come face to face with death. To die is to tear apart, penetrate, and swallow life alive. Why can't people who seek death live? Because he didn't know what death was like, but he knew the tearing, penetrating and swallowing, and he was already in death.
Happy people, don't blame those who are in pain, because there is no pain that is not real.
So is pain the reason for pain? No. Pain exists for only one purpose: to make it disappear. The human body is very real. When it can still be called a body, it naturally needs to be comfortable, healthy, moving freely, breathing heavily, talking happily, singing loudly. For the original body, these were all reasonable and legitimate. Such a body is called youth.
And old age is the process of deprivation. The body also gets used to old age, sickness, pain, and brokenness. If it wants to continue living, it can only take these as another inevitable state—even as itself. But hope really cannot be discarded, because hope is planted in the depths of the body - how does it face the coexistence of hope and despair? Just hate yourself. The body is a very soft and fragile thing, and its wish to be healthy is so real. When this wish is trampled on, it not only hates others, but actually hates itself most. All wicked men hate themselves the most. And his only comfort was to complain about himself, and the more he complained, the more bitter sweetness moistened his tongue. This is the saddest thing in the world.
How I hated myself when I was old because I wanted too much of myself. There is so much knowledge that I know, learn, and swallow, that builds me up high. At first, a child thought that if he could climb to the sky, if he wanted, he could create a world; if he wanted, he could get a world; if he wanted, he could give a world. All children see themselves as gods and are not one of the gods, but only one. At that time, he used flowers and grass to build the world, and he built it, and no one said it was not real. And adults also encourage such great dreams - if people are not great when they are young, how can they be great when they grow up?
Yes or no? You thought so too.
So, as he grew up, he gradually realized that the world was not as good as he imagined - why not? Because there are other people in the world, and they are not one of the gods, everyone thinks that they are the only word, and there will be war between gods and gods.
The outcome of such a war can be imagined. A person's old age is a fall from the throne of God.
Therefore, when a person becomes an adult, there are usually two outcomes: either he prolongs his adolescence indefinitely, and he does not want to wake up, so he has no choice but to not grow up; or he hates the dreams of childhood, and grows old quickly and is proud of his old age. He said: I am a bug, what can you do with a bug?
——Peter Pan is going to stay in Neverland all his life, but will the world go to him? The world will go to him, and it will take his island with its armies, rob him of his belongings, humiliate his name, and trample on all that is dear to him. Because there are many gods in this world, everyone wants their own territory. You have your Neverland, and I have mine—my island is going to cover the whole world. Who says Captain Hook isn't another Peter Pan?
As for those who consider themselves worms, he doesn't think they are really worms, he is just a god in worm skin. "For insects" is also a dream, but it is not on the white clouds. They let themselves burrow into the depths of the earth, thinking that it was safe and covered in darkness, and whoever thought that there were many other insect gods underground, they bit each other. The underground world is the same as the earth. Neverland is everywhere.
Such children, such children in adult shells, are actually the oldest. They have built a strong castle for themselves, and there is no living thing in and no living thing out. Yes, old age is also alone in the dark to dream about youth.
In various old situations, people watch their flesh peel off, listen to the broken voice in their hearts, and their souls are like a breath, not knowing whether to spit it out or swallow it back. Not only that, but the old are also the ones who kill many people. It has also torn people's flesh, pierced through people's hearts, and devoured people's hopes. They divide it like this: you are mine, you are not mine. Is mine to me, so is it love? No, a peeled and hopeless man is incapable of loving anyone. It's just that he was caught alive in his own castle and continued the game of Peter Pan and Captain Hook. As for the enemy - just drive away or destroy the enemy.
- How cruel is old age.
Today, when I look back on it all, who said life wasn't thrilling? The blood of the invisible war was all over the place, and there were stiff corpses floating outside the city gate. It's just that we don't know who to turn to to bring the bodies back, who are the real relatives, lovers, rescuers and givers of hope. The only thing left to do is to give it to the crow, to the desert of time, and to abandon one's soul on the battlefield of one heart after another.
When I think about all this today, I think what a sad God, and what a patient God, is. I didn't believe when he told me I wasn't Peter Pan, and at last I became Captain Hook; I didn't believe when he told me he was my father, and I grew old day by day until I was older than the oldest grandfather; When He waited silently, I ran fast until I reached the end of the world. I carried a whole Neverland to the end of the world and saw that there was only desert, and the rest was only desert.
Then, for the first time in a long, long time, I cried like a helpless child. All the madness, the shouting, the fear, the bewilderment—everything that had been buried for dignity's sake burst out like a fever. I found myself sick. I see myself so old, but only old, and I don't know everything I need to know: neither what the world is nor what I am; neither where I came from nor where I am going go with. Not knowing what light is, what darkness is; what hope is, what despair is; what love is, what is being loved.
- It doesn't make sense! Isn't the little seed that has been planted deep in my body that drives me to pursue the good; aren't all the hopes and joys that I once inspired me like horns? Wasn't the longing for a lover that had been buried in my heart from the beginning awakened by this lover himself?
So I turned my head and asked: What are you? Hidden in my heart - who are you?
At this time, there was no sound, no answer, no word, only one hand stretched out and hugged me, so calm, as if he had been waiting for a long time; so strong, as if he was already strong; so soft, Warm and generous, as if He was the bed of this world, and let the world roll on it, and in the end, He woke me up.
Like all those who love each other, as in English, love is described as fall in love. When I see him, I will ask no more; when I am with him, I will search no more; when I am held by him When I started, I stopped running. I knew that I had really become a child. At that moment, my father wanted to take me home.
Do you believe? New flesh can grow out of the peeled flesh. At first I was just amazed to see him bandage and heal me. One day I pointed to the hands and feet of the new tutu and asked: What is this? He said: This is you.
Lately, I've often felt like a kid, but no longer Peter Pan. Peter Pan is a non-growing, child with an old soul and this soul can only remember things that can't grow as well, and see all the living as enemies. Once the little girl he loves grows up, he will drive her out of Neverland and look for a new one.
But my heart gradually remembered many living things, like my hands, feet and feet, which gradually took on a new shape. Like my heart starts beating again. They were bustling with laughter and dancing, like a flock of newborn snow-white sheep.
I am the youngest of the group, I am His stupid and weak lamb, stumbling around, taking detours and getting hurt occasionally. But He made me grow.
Only a father knows that he is a child. My dad He told me to grow.
hallelujah.
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