revolving door

When I was six or seven years old, I was instinctively afraid of things in the night. My parents put the writing desk on the balcony. The floor of my house is not high. Opposite is half the wall of the kindergarten rooftop. Every night when I write \”swish\” on the homework book, I can see the reflection of the downstairs on the white wall. Silhouettes of people walking around. A few dozen meters to the left of the half-white wall, you can see the dim lights and corridors of the low-rise residential building opposite. I always see an oval-shaped black figure standing in the corridor, with a thin rope hanging above its head. Years later, I couldn\’t tell whether it was my imagination or something real. I guessed it was the hanging wire of an old-fashioned incandescent lamp. I have never been able to stay calm in the dark night. I firmly believe that I need something that can make me forget this kind of panic. But at the time, I didn’t understand that fiction naturally has the power to eliminate fear. I only thought it was a comparison between reality and illusion. A kind of compilation, which I understood at the time to be tantamount to lying. Therefore, I told my friends during the day what I saw and what I thought about when I closed my eyes. Over time, I really couldn’t tell the truth from the lies. I did not hesitate to give myself the reputation of making up and lying, but I continued to do this fictitious work. Initially, it was indeed to gain the courage to fight against fear. Later, when I grew up, I even thought that the protection of language created a labyrinth for me. I tasted the sweetness that this power brought to me. This attraction persisted over the years. Even after I had no choice but to choose science in high school and college, one day And I desperately wanted to enter the world related to literature. In 2019, I changed my major and began to write novels seriously. The first few articles were poorly written, and the subsequent ones were always inseparable from myself. Some of them were close to imitations, and most of them were blind people trying to grasp an elephant. I pushed open the door and came in to take a look. It was like standing at the foot of a snow-capped mountain. I saw a spectacular sight and had even greater doubts and panic about myself. I have lost a lot of courage this year, because the fearlessness brought about by ignorance has almost faded. I knew so little about literature that I was like a drowning man clutching at straws. This year I didn’t have much desire to talk. Instead, I had more detours and concealments in my heart. At the end of spring, one night, I didn\’t catch the last train back to Shanghai. I walked around the train station and finally bought a ticket from Zhangjiagang to Shanghai, planning to pay for it at the station. With an unknown identity, I pretended to sit in an empty seat that only belonged to me at this moment. I couldn\’t tell whether it felt like a kind of hiding or confusion. I was almost pushed by the crowd. Because of the rain, everyone was wet, like a group of animals with wet fur, migrating from one collapsed place to another disaster place. At that time, I only felt one thing , There are too many people in this world. There are many people rushing to catch trains, many people buying lottery tickets, many people commuting, and even more unknown people. I am not the only one who goes anywhere. Before I turned twenty-five, I felt tired. Compared to my friends who drifted north alone, I always stayed here. My rebellious nature forced me to leave, but my pessimism always hung on the sky. That’s when I sat down and started thinking about who I was again. I no longer feel that I am irreplaceable, and I don’t know whether it’s because my nature has faded away or because my persistence has reached its end. Many people spend their lives not to beWe fight against the general public, although everything, including the self, is a ship of Theseus, piece by piece is replaced from the inside out, and one day we become an unrecognizable person. But I always want to keep something, narrow hobbies, character flaws, familiar tastes that I like, and a certain word that I always use in the first paragraph when I write, so that I can understand that I have not been eliminated, and my broken heart will be broken. Reunited piece by piece. I think I forgot something. Even if I just open the door and take a look, whether I stay or leave in the future, there will always be something that I can see at a glance, and there will always be something that only I can write down, even if it is stubborn, willful or incomplete. something. Some people say that your writing can truly begin when one day the purpose of writing is no longer to heal yourself. I always walk aimlessly on the road, looking at people hugging or crying on the street, stopping in front of mobile stalls, carefully looking at the price of everything on it, even if I don’t necessarily buy it, I will resist by going there. The ability of the night to think about other people\’s laughter and tears. I am always afraid of going back to the starting point, afraid that one day I will lose all my tentacles, even my fear of the unknown and the human heart, and become the kind of good person and brave person who works hard to live a life that I recognized in the past. Writing will not protect me for a long time as a shield, but it can always accompany me on the road, from night to day, just like the subway slowly moving from the tunnel to the ground, and one day I can embrace the openness.