As the faint light was blown away in the wind, only the unbridled blackness and afterimages left scattered insects in front of the eyes. It was not the suffocating silence, but the sounds of mice gnawing and running. Turn your head to see what they are doing, but you can never expect a pair of green eyes, only the aimless black, who is concentrating on stopping to prepare for the next moment, when a voice suddenly appears from a distance, and this voice They never stop what they're doing because you thump them hard, I'm afraid it's a sacrificial feast for the witches to guide the mice, and you're the sacrificial at the center. At that time, I suddenly understood the meaning of the word hometown to many people. It is an image that is full of sustenance but cannot be touched. When Dior's red poison finally keeps the head dizzy and amnesia, the past scenes will be traumatized again. Like the flashbacks suffered by post-stress disorder patients, you mix joy and sadness into a pot of soup with distinct flavors, and finally force you to drink it all in one gulp.
It's never unbearable when you think about it, when you look at the black and white pupils of the people in your hometown, it's as if you're looking at a mirror, in which they are mixed with instinctive rejection and unexplained confusion. He began to talk recklessly, and in the conjecture mixed with all kinds of respect and malice, it was like one of a group of frogs jumped out of the well, but jumped back again. It turns out that the outside world is so ridiculous and absurd, and then look at how incompetent and pitiful the frog that jumps back is. Even if it ran away in a deviant way at the beginning, it still came back here wagging its tail in the end. As the fog slowly covered every corner of the mirror, I picked up the mint Marlboro in my hand and took a sip. The smoke and water vapor that I exhaled spiraled upward, and I finally couldn't see myself in the mirror anymore.
The silhouette in the mirror is like everyone here, my mother, my father, my sister, people I know, and myself, all looking at me the same way, or I'm looking at myself like this, asking I have the same question - why are you coming back? With the mediation of vodka, I finally understood that it should be for a job. Facing the gossip and gossip for a job...
face……
Facing the flashing text cursor, I want to replace it with abstract words, such as memories, such as the past, or add weighty attributes, such as painful memories, such as the past of scars. Only then did you know that there is a word that can never be avoided, it is left on the lips and teeth and surrounded by the liver and gallbladder.
That is family.
"Too audacious! What the hell are you trying to say?" Sometimes I think I've learned to deal with anger with silence, and stop trying to resolve grief with the willfulness of others' mouths, and when politeness can make me end gagging as soon as possible, all All the efforts are a boring joke in the face of these two words. What words should you use to describe your family? A mother who wants to turn her child into a doll, a father who is pretentious and indifferent, and a sister who desires to be cared for like a doll. Perhaps this is not enough to describe, after all trying to distort my experience through denial or relabeling is a tricky feat, and missionary influences coupled with ignorance under the guise of character and sanctimonious love are commonplace. It just doesn't make me understand that there is a younger sister who doesn't have any talent as an actress, who is cooperating with a child to be her own good girl, and at the same time wants to be the queen here.
The latter seems to be someone's previous title. How far can she go? I covered my forehead, and hurriedly poured the alcohol in. The future and the past would be together like rape. This place has been there since I was born, and will continue to exist after I die. People here are dandelions in the valley, desperately growing enough to spread their seeds, and then watching their flesh continue to grow here with their own decay, To finally die and numbly feed on the corpse. But it was never supposed to be my sister, she might be young, she might have infinite possibilities.
So what am I supposed to do, when I come back to them again. All the scars etched on me at this moment murmured how they wished I could scrape them off, the moment when the blood suddenly appeared, announcing the birth of pain was the only thing sobering here; maybe I should What would kill my parents so I could take my own sister and let her grow up healthy in a normal environment I created; maybe I need something to pry my mouth open and pull those The filth in the internal organs, remove those memories with blood and milky white on the surface.
What is the right way to do this?
Finally, I found one-
"Sharp Tool"
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