I want to be a child.
A child who is doted on. I don't want 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 the music. What makes people sad is the inexplicable yet unavoidable reality. In all realities, 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 myself in front of everyone. Laugh happily, cry sadly. Make a fuss for no reason. Shed tears for a lollipop. Feel sad and nestle in my mother's arms when my beloved flower withers.
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 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 laugh, if you want, you can always be a real person.
But now, I really want to let myself cry, freely. I really hope I am still that confused child who, even without direction, can see clearly within their soul. I really hope I am still an ignorant child who, even if they always take the wrong way home, always knows they need to go home.
But as I grow up 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 burst into tears because of a single 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 really represent? When I truly emerge from that distant period, in a night with only a few stars, I finally 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 has 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...