I want to be a child.
A child who is doted on. I don't have to face the dark sky alone, lost in a strange city, and have to grope forward. Soft music plays in my ears, always with a hint of sadness. I know, sometimes sadness is not caused by music. What makes people sad is the inexplicable but unavoidable truth. In all truths, we cannot escape. All retreats are filled with bits and pieces of reality.
I want to be a child, an innocent child. I can be true to myself in front of everyone. Laugh happily, cry sadly. Make a fuss for no reason. I can shed tears for a lollipop. I can nestle in my mother's arms because my beloved flower has withered.
Actually, I just want to be a child. A silly child. Play in all ignorant spaces and times, without worrying about whether tomorrow's sky will be bright. I can act spoiled by someone's side, rely on someone's embrace to find 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 really hope that I am still that confused child, even if I have no direction, but I can see myself clearly in the depths of my soul. I really hope that I am still 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 up day by day, I become more and more indifferent. All the happiness and sadness can no longer touch the soft nerves. The child who used to burst into tears because of a word has disappeared. I once doubted whether I still had the ability to cry. At this moment, I always 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 walk out of 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 such a real me, because from then on, the child who was real for the sake of being real turned into smoke and disappeared without a trace...
I want to be a child, using real tears to record a real life. It's just that when I was a child, I couldn't understand this cruelty. It's just that when I experienced this cruelty, I was no longer a child... And 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...