分类目录归档:Essays

Sue

She is in the classroom, alone, wearing a white shirt with blue strips. The fringe of her shirt is tucked in her black trousers, which makes her legs longer. Her black leather shoes enhance this impression.

As I sit down in the chair, I noticed her name on the name badge sticked to her shirt. Sue. Is Sue for Susanna? Susanna sounds so feminine. Sue suits her better. I thought secretly.

Her hair is blond on the surface, and darker in the root. She has very short hair, but the fringe is rather long and a little bit curled up, perhaps with the help of fixature, just like what selfie boys like to do.

Her dark brown framed eye glasses have a dimetric shape, which adds another air of masculinity. I look at her eyes when she stands in from of me, talking like a lecturer.

I am attracted by her. An evil thought blinks in my chaotic mind.  I am not unfamiliar with this secret feeling for a girl. All these thoughts just flow in my mind. Is she a lesbian? She looks like one. She must be one. Look how she looks when she talks, how she chose to dress herself, how her every single gesture and pose hint.

She sits one metre away from me. The distance is so unbridgeable. Our acquaintance is so formal.

Another three students come into the classroom. She asks us to sit down in the chair, forming a semi-circle. She sits in front of the semi-circle, facing us. She talks very fast, and her intonation flows smoothly, which is difficult for me, as a second language speaker to follow.

As she talks, my sidelong glance notices her humble breasts between the gaps of our eye contacts. The only thing I can make sure of is that how I like the way she dressed herself, how I am obsessed with her short and boyish hair, and how I am touched by her every single gesture and movement.

She walks around in the room, with one hand in the pocket of her black trousers. She turns around, her head bending down, engrossed in thinking. The other hand stops in the air for a second. Then suddenly as she turns, the hand drops down. I know she have got an idea in her mind.

She asks the students to share their behaviour of procrastination. The boy with dark skin says he would tell himself that he will do it tomorrow. The Chinese girl says she would tell herself just postpone the work another five minutes. The girl in blue shirt and dark skin, wearing large butterfly-shaped earrings says, she always justifies herself that maybe other people are also procrastinating. I says I talk too much with my partner.

When I say this, I find nothing changes in her face. Of course! I am only a stranger to her. A completely stranger! How I wish I could read her mind!

She says when she procrastinates, she bites her nails. Dark skinned girl Jessica says she bites too. The two share something in common! How I envy Jessica! Why I never have the weird habit to bite my nails?! Thinking about biting nails makes me feel creepy, just like the uncomfortableness caused by pencil scratching on a piece of paper. But… but she bites, how special she is!

She puts her finger on her lips to show how she normally does this kind of thing. A common thing to do in classroom, to make the students feel less boring. When she pretends to bite her nails, and then puts her long arms beside her ankles, how cute and lovely she is!

She does not smile a lot, unless she feels the students need to be encouraged and cheered up. Most of the time, her expression is a little bit solemn, and rather attentive.
I feel I can not concentrate on what she is talking about. I have to observe her face, the subtle changes of her expression, her facial muscle, her eyes when she speaks. I sink into the chair, in the corner, observing her. All my energies and enthusiasms have gone to my highly active mind.

She stands up, and writes something on the board. She then does not return to her seat, but leaning on the desk, facing me directly. My heart cheers up. Does she wants to be closer to me?

Three hours is soon over. We have to part, as strangers. What can I do? Am I not that Prufrock, only capable of asking himself do I dare, do I dare, but never have the guts to eat the peach? I hear the mermaids singing, but I only drown in a sea of silence.

At night, before go to bed, I prepare myself to dream about her. Having this idea in mind, I feel great eager to fall asleep. Will she walk to me in my dreams? Or am I brave enough to talk to her? But when I open my eyes the next day, recalling my experience last night, I realise she was not there. Nothing happens in my dream, just like everything is nil in reality.
My mind is full of her face, her gesture, her white-blue shirt, her black trousers, her dark glasses. When I think of her, a strong longing swells in my heart, like the tide in a full moon night. Vainly, but beautifully.

On the third day after I met her, I searched for her on FaceBook. Lucky for me. I found some photos posted on her main page. Not so many, all with her friends. But that is enough to fill my little heart with content. She smiles on all the photos, with several female friends.

I begin to wonder, what a person would she be in normal occasions? Is she easy going and approachable? Or is she as serious as what she looks now? What kinds of people are her closest friends? Would she hug them when she is happy? Would she sometimes feel sad and depressed? Would she joke with her friends playfully?

I am dreaming again! I know that. I know fantasy is of no good. But that at least makes me close to her.

忧郁的自我诊断

黑色的夜,黑色的流质,在我的血液里沸腾、燃烧。

我看见那只乌鸦,停歇在路灯顶上。马路对面的山丘,升腾起成片的乌鸦。

窗帘的条纹,红色的像血,蓝色的是忧郁,混合在一起,就是梦魇的形状。它一直在那里的啊,日日夜夜,瞪着我,在我看书写字的时候,在我睡觉的时候。

耳边的音乐,只有开得最大声,到了耳膜震颤的极限,才会感觉到心脏,弱弱跳动的那么一点点。

怎么了?自己正在跟自己诊断。对那个名词,对那股邪恶的病毒流体在体内的作用认识更加深刻了。

可是,却还是无力摆脱它。它就寄身在体内,安全而封闭的空间。即使我张开嘴呼吸,使劲地流眼泪,它还是那么安全,舒适地躺在身体里,最最安全的地带。

它在那个身体里攻城掠池,最想得到的高台。那颗跳动的心脏的地带。

心脏沦陷了。大脑的理智也被腐蚀了。思考不能清晰了。无力了。在崩溃的边缘。还是,这只是做作的我的夸张?

夜里睡得却那么地舒适。沉沉的,好像睡进了很深的泥土里。梦见过去的生命里,出现过的那些人。亲密的,疏远的,都已经不属于我了。

那些说过的话,流过的泪,那些纠纠缠缠,直到亲自把通向彼此的路截断。没有勇气忍受失去,却一直背对着这个世界,背对着那些注视的人。

当眼已望穿,背影已成荒漠。那些人,也已不在。是他们在欺骗吗?

理智的大多数,直到平凡的人需要的只是平凡的幸福。所以曾经作出的承诺,只有有承接的另一双手,才会有结果。如果一方已经不在,另一方岂不会抽离?就像两只手掌才拍得出声响。

他们转身,走向茫茫人海里,幸福的人海里。他们没有错。错的只是,此时又想起那些注目的眼睛,那些想要温暖你的手。

曾经以为最温暖的手,是还不曾握过的手。以为小小的手,不能握住绚丽的烟霞,装点你的想象。现在才知道,全世界去寻找风景,而最美丽的风景,早已从身边溜走。

他们都有了崭新的人生了吧。快乐的人生,美丽的人生,平凡而幸福的人生,是没有你的人生。笑着忘了吧!总在一个角落里怀念着,你也总会错过,现在的风景,现在的温暖,和现在注视着你的温情的双眼。

已不在年轻的你,好像已经透支了所有的勇气和魄力。青春鸟飞走了,只留下一地的鸡毛。你要将它拾起来,做成鸡毛掸子,清扫你布满灰尘的旧书桌吗?

又到了那个轮回。泪就像雨水,涨满秋池。在这个结冰的冬天,怀念着几年前那个落花飘雨的冬天。哪一天,哪一年,才能拥有那样的小院?所有的情绪,都有一草一木,一山一水的共鸣。那时候,悲伤的,不再自卑,不再责备,也不再羞愧。因为它们与你共享,那美丽的撒旦。

或许此生永远只能遥远地想望。带到白发苍老时,那落花,那池水,能否为我送葬?

 

情人的醋意

You think you can have one

In this life or next

You think you can find the eye

That feels lost when looking the other side

When holding this person in your arms

Your similes may deceive you

Behind his back

Another apparition’s breathing

He may say that they are just common friends

He may even be angry for your misconceptions

But who knows what is the true look of all the relationships

 

我不是那个唯一,只是刚好在那个时间出现,刚好适合了你那时的情绪。

然后就阴差阳错地,让故事继续,忘记了人不止有一种情绪。

也没有看清楚你眼中的自己,其实只是你众多情绪中的若轻若重的一种而已。

除了我你还需要七情或六欲,然后把这些蓝颜或者红颜贴上普通朋友的的标记。

目的或是诡辩,或是掩蔽。但那些都不重要!

重要的是这样的举措,能让那些相互挤压的情绪在你的胸中延续下去。

这样你就可以继续享受不同的风情,在不安的夜风中慰籍躁动的灵魂。

有时候

有的时候,真想给自己两巴掌。真想去撞墙。或者找棵枝干粗糙的大树,毫不留情,猛挥拳头。你有没有这样子的时候?

听闻上午学校最高的那栋倾斜的科技大楼上,一个灵魂脚尖一踮,轻声一跃。从此,身体和灵魂分道扬镳。灵魂彻底摆脱了躯壳的沉重,那是怎样的一种感觉呢?

他是第一个从那栋楼的二十四层腾步而起的吧。曾经,二十四楼,是最适合看风景的地方。看这个校园的风景,看这座小城的风景,看明天的风景,看人们眼中的风景。

他临走之前,是不是还仔细地凝视了这风景?可能真的不喜爱,所以不带一点留恋,就那么走了。

走的时候,引起了一阵骚动。你的离开,带给了多少人沉思?你到底是纯真生命的捍卫者,还是懦弱的逃避者?斑驳的血迹,明天过后就不在。你的印记,会在多少人眼中存在?你的离开,会在多少人心中留下不灭的悲哀?

人越活越沉重。现在怎么也想象不出,在自己的生命里头,竟然还有过身轻若烟,矫捷若雀的时候了。想不出,头脑里面,装的只有棒棒糖、洋娃娃、小伙伴。想不出,不开心的时候,放声地大哭,一边用沾满泥巴的右手,把鼻涕眼泪在脸上敷了个遍。

想着想着,鼻尖一酸。现在的泪,不再是沾染了泥淖的泪,而是清泪,是过滤过驰骋黄绿蓝靛紫的泪。白色的泪,无色的泪,咸咸的泪,凉凉的泪。。。

它一半滑入我的嘴,一半把刚洗好的脸浅浅的分出两部分。

耳边的Don’t you cry tonight赶对了时间。回过神来,用纸巾拭干,爬上床去,在梦里遗忘过去将来。

如果,有三个自己

有人说,这个世界上,存在着另外一个自己。去做你想做却未能做过的事情,去想象你不敢想象的梦境,去走你未曾涉足的路,去见你期盼却从未遇见的人。

如果,真的有这样的存在,该多好。那么,我想要,一个自己。两个自己。。三个自己。。。

第一个自己,在门外陌生的凤里。第二个自己,在花树流连的树影里。第三个自己,在野草枯黄的高原上。

第一个自己,要继续我此生的际遇。烦恼,忧思,焦躁,抑郁……要体会这世,我所有的情绪。要有未曾实现的梦想,去纠结。要有失去的珍宝,去叹息。那样,我就可以,旁观者一般地,去读她脸上所有的悲,和喜。

我要遇见第二个自己,在莫奈的大花园里。她戴着宽沿草帽,回眸对我一笑,手里的画笔粘着三十六彩的颜料。春日暖烘烘的太阳,花海里徜徉的斑斓蝴蝶,池子里碎碎的水草,都可以出神入化地化作她面前,白色画布上的紫红和靛蓝。

第三个自己,要有勇气挣脱所有生命的奴役。在黑暗里,毫不畏惧地展开那双绝美的黑色羽翼。喜欢涂黑色的眼影,戴浓密的假睫毛。左肩上的刺青,大声地宣告着她的不屑和无所谓。午夜的街头,她扔掉空酒瓶子,圆头皮靴疯狂地唾弃退漆的街灯。她背上吉他,跳上大卡车。手中的烟头,把她的头像氤氲得遥远而神秘。她到异国的街区,流散着自己的坚持,天使一般地,仰望着她自己的上帝。