I want to be a child who never grows up.

I want to be a child.

A child who is loved and cherished. One who doesn't have to face a dark sky alone, getting lost in a strange city and having to find their way. Soft music plays in their ears, always tinged with a hint of sadness. I know that sometimes, sadness is not caused by the music. What makes us sad is the inexplicable yet unavoidable reality. In all realities, we cannot escape. All escape routes are filled with bits and pieces of reality.

I want to be a child, an innocent child. One who can be true to themselves in front of everyone. Laugh happily, cry sadly. Make a fuss for no reason. Shed tears for a lollipop. Feel sad and curl up in my mother's embrace when a beloved flower withers.

Actually, I just want to be a child. A silly child. Play in all the spaces and times of ignorance, without worrying about whether tomorrow's sky will be bright. I can be spoiled by someone, rely on someone's embrace for warmth, and enjoy someone's care without any pressure.

But I can only wish, it's so difficult. Sometimes, I foolishly ask, why? Sometimes, I foolishly smile, if you want, you can always be a real person.

But now, I really want to let myself cry, freely. I wish I could still be that clueless child, even if I have no direction, but deep in my soul, I can see myself clearly. I wish I could still be an ignorant child, even if I always take the wrong way home, I always know that I need to go home.

But as I grow older day by day, I become more and more indifferent. All the happiness, all the sadness can no longer touch my soft nerves. The child who used to cry because of a word has disappeared. I once doubted if I still had the ability to cry. At this moment, I try my best to find those so-called sad books... When tears are shed just for the sake of shedding tears, what can tears represent? When I truly emerge from that distant feeling, in a night with only a few stars, I understand that those tears were for that emotion. Because from then on, there will never be a real me, because from then on, the child who was real for the sake of being real has turned into smoke and disappeared without a trace...

I want to be a child, using real tears to record a real life. However, when I was a child, I couldn't understand this cruelty. And when I finally understood this cruelty, I was no longer a child... And now, I can only be that child again in the dark illusion, in the hallucinatory nothingness, in my own fairy tale, standing in the wind, keeping company with the stars in the sky with teary eyes...

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