Forgettable

Found the pink journal. The notebook is merely half used since 2020. I flip through the pages, you is on every page. I made a wish at the beginning of this year and it miraculously came true at the end of this year.  Wait, where's my pen? 

Wish I could be as tough as a stepped-on yet running around cockroach, to survive the fever. There is a fire burning in my eyes.

How many you are scattered in the midnight sky? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions? Or, billions? Who was the one?  Who is the one that sees my gaze in the crowds?

News about the temporary ceasefire is everywhere, right after the connection. I know it's idealistic to relate them together. But as I mentioned earlier, connecting to bring some peace in the world, even though it was unilateral connection. It will be permanent, not temporary. I opened the door, the ground was covered by a thick layer of snow.

There you is, mon cher soloist, dressed in my red, chanting the eternal elegy of I-love-myself. O mon cher soloist, thank god I bump into you again. Your self-love transcends time, algorithm, the eyes of local gods, jumping on my screen.

Scrolled an interesting line the other day, which was "If it never begins, it's poetry."  Everything is well explained from this perspective. It was anyone of them but you. So you don't have the memory I shared with that one-of-them. Their existence is an illustration of the death penalty you bestowed it (what's it?).  I'm one of the tourists in the museum, standing around the precious vase covered with glass, but too lazy to figure out the historical meanings of the n  (1,  3372)  BC vase. "Wow, so beautiful!" or "I like the colors!" are all I can say to the marvel. Sunset, star, dream are beautiful yet untouchable. Meanwhile, I'm a human.

With the help of AI assistants, how you think becomes more important than how you write. Writing can be done by AI. So why do I still type every letter by my fingers, in the most inefficient way? Unlike those natives, I do it in order to keep the language on my mind, because I have no one else or no place to use the language. I don't chat online, I don't leave comments anywhere, aka engaging with people. AI is convenient for commercial writings, an straight intention to earn money by views, engagements, advertisements, ect. I don't set up goals for gaining followers to sell them my sorrow or others' pain afterward, I don't feel joy in the spotlight. I simply like the process of typing words, I write for fun. It's my dopamine. I know what I'm writing is arid, and nothing of professional. But since there is no view, my words won't pollute anyone's eyes, no worries.  I'm just nothing in the world, my illness, including my disappearance will not spla...

So recently the sun rises at the place near the sunset spot, being orange in the sky like a sunset for few hours then disappears. Better than the one I saw near the Arctic years ago. Precisely I did not see the sun at that time, only the pink sky behind the snow mountain. Yeah, pink for two hours then the long night.  But when I thougt it should be late at night, the time told me it was just 5:21 p.m., I felt like I stole more time in a day.

Two short-sleeve T-shirts, a pair of autumn trousers. I walked into the falling snow. It was like being in a huge freezer. However, I did not feel cold. But I got spotted when I cleaned the ground. "Don't you feel cold?" "No." "Don't you feel cold? Put on more clothes." "Not cold, almost done." She walked inside, I swiftly finished the cleaning, still couldn't feel the expected pain in my bones. Why do they always assume I feel cold? Do pilgrims walking around the  Kangrinboqê feel exhausted? I don't think so. The pilgrimage is not in November, though.

Excluding the agony on the visual impact of self-abuse, which made me cry two meters of toilet papers, I scarcely felt any emotional waves in my mind. It just happened, nothing I couldn't get through. This creature is far more perplexed than anything on the planet so I have learned to not trust a shit I see or feel from this creature.  Yet there's a obvious side effect due to the short connection -- the loss of my appetite. I was so starved that the stomachache warned me the stomach ate myself. But I didn't eat a bite of food, I drank some water. I don't like to eat anyway.  Few days later, I still don't want to eat. As long as my mind feels nothing, I don't care about appetite.

Equipped with extraordinary empathy, by just reading or looking at others' emotions, then the resonance is deep as if it happens in oneself to create something touching others' heartstrings. Call it a sort of blessed superpower that I'm so envious of. Not necessary to actually experience the pain in heart, the swollen eyes after crying, the happiness in life, the moments of triumph, the calmness, merely to feel what others' feel. That really saves a lot of time in life, an effective capacity.  I'm so envious. I feel like a fool who has to experience everything in order to turn it into words. 

I usually think about the reasons behind it when the same phenomenon happened more than one time. Here I'm going to talk about why people kept asking the same thing to start a casual chat. 1. The amnesia followed by age, the memorial capacity in brain descends. As a result, the chatter can't remember the same topic have been chatted not long ago, and the questions have been answered. 2. The chatter they want to chat to has no value in their brain so the brain didn't give a space to remember the previous chat. 3. To stay in the habitué zone of knowledge, to avoid the awkward of the mention of something foreign. I don't tell them the same thing has been said last time because I want to play dumb. I personally prefer to hold the belief that they think the person they chat with means nothing to them, that's why they can't remember the topic have been chatted before. I don't chat to people much. I remembered once in college when I chatted with a classmate for a l...

Snowy day, every piece of snow is swirling in the perfect shape and speed. For the first time, I smile whilst I walk in the snow.

That was the day I was closest to the death, more precisely, the feeling of death.  That was not a big surgery, so after laying in bed for one day or two, the urinary catheter was removed, all patients were required to stand up to walk regardless of the 20cm freshly stitched wound. I put my feet outside the bed, I tried to stand up, then my breath was blocked sharply, as if a button was pressed to turn off the respiratory function. I tried to stand again, at the moment my feet touched the floor, I couldn't breathe, so I had to lay back to bed to wait one more day. I didn't call the nurse there, I thought it was normal after surgery. I forgot when I could stand up. Even if I stood up, I could merely move like a toddler due to the constant sharp pain from the wound. I mentioned it to the doctor who went to check us every day, they examined me for two days to figure out the root of the problem -- my big heart.  Thanks to the rehearsal, I can know how it is going to feel like. May...

My personal disposable income, I got the result after I did some simple calculations in my mind. If only it was marked by another currency.

She imagined many times, the few minutes prior to her lost of consciousness and breathe, he would show up by her side like a magic, to be the last person for her to see. Then, she thought of the possible new trauma that would haunt the sensitive fragile soul for even longer time. To shun the deep negativity for the living being she knew, she reimagined the scene, where she'd lay somewhere alone, nobody was there when she closed her eyes permanently. It is just ruthless to put the first touch and last touch in the same picture.

I was watching a fairytale-themed proposal video while I heard the song -- fairy tale, playing in the hallway. I smiled, though I could not imagine how I'd feel if I got proposed. Proposal, wedding, gender reveal... I may never know how they feel like, so I never skip a frame of others' happiest moments when I watch them. 

The shackles on my heart were unfastened since the day I wore my big pink samdals for hours of ceaseless job. No rest in between so I compress it to 1.5-3 hours.  It's boring and exhausting. At first I could feel some excitement from stomping on my dignity and clean fingers, now I mostly feel bored, nothing else. I'd leave as fast as possible for other things than wasting time on the boredom. The last time I knew the impact of shoe size was few days before the first surgery in my life. The ache under my swollen feet equaled to stepping onto knifes. I recalled those high heels sitting in the offices for eight hours a day. I'd suggest everyone who has to sit or stand long time to wear comfortable bigger shoes. For the sake of health. 

Who is in reality? What is reality? Am I in reality? Amazing, you turned it into reality, so that I can touch, smell, hold closest to my heart. Is that all in reality? Why no one is there? Should I eliminate me as well? 

As someone who has no habit of looking back, no regrets at all. If anyone got an opportunity to go back to the exact points where the regrets were about to brew, without the memory of "future", the same choices would be made to ensure the regrets fall in place. Can you say resolutely that you had no idea what would happen at those pivotal moments, when the decisions were made? We all knew, more or less, yet we chose like gamblers. Besides, time always washed away everything like the waves do to the name written on the beach. Yeah, their incorruptible corpses, their unrecognisable art in caverns, the marvels underground, on the ground are all testament to the existence of something. Something that we can reaonate to after thousands of years. We may even feel regretful for them. But they are all gone, with their possible regrets. You may propose that we can learn from them to leave no regrets in future. Well, from a macro perspective, we may learn the wisdom to make some regret...

The closest distance between me and the black GC bag was less than 0.5 meters, maybe 30 centimeters. Not CH, not MM, but GC. The GC with a delicate makeup and sweet voice showed up there three times, I said hello twice in a row, but no hello back. Totally normal, GC says hello only to the rich bosses, not the filthy dust on the ground.