sir hi sir i don’t think we’ve ever met but please please please do me a favor and get the fuck out of my dreams

i've been dreaming about you since the first time i met you then dreams turned into fantasies and fantasies turned into nightmares and nightmares turned into realities and now i'm on my knees so please

your life seems undeniably awesome and so is mine no wait actually who am i kidding i can’t even wake myself up i’m a fucking mess but still if it weren’t for you haunting me every night perhaps things might get better

the dreams were innocent yet soul-wrenchingly violent i never seemed to recall exactly what happened but there’s always an instant where i see your eyes looking into mine and i’d knew the clock is ticking in dreamland once again

occasionally the dreams were searing and mindlessly endearing i followed traces of heat and captured them with a drug called dairies sometimes it worked sometimes i got lost and gave up

and i swear to god it wasn’t a crush if anything it’s dreaming of vengeance with a vendetta but i've always tried to be generous and to believe in karma so i can’t let this problematic inner psychedelia take myself up but the dreams wouldn’t let up either so now i'm sleepless and always in a rush

will it ever be over i guess the answer is never but good news is i learned how to be numb and to be a pushover but before your demons shake me sober i have another thing to utter

get the fuck out of my dreams

You dream of
You dream of
You dream of
You dream of individuality
And now you can't afford the free
You fight delusions of demons
And now you're getting a little bit of diabolic
You want invitations to their parties
But you're allergic to the confetti
You weaponize hospitality
And wonder why there's nothing left to keep
You're on a dead-end street
On a taxi
Full speed
Doing a 180
Doing a
Doing a
Doing a 180

There’s always been a part of this world
That’s inherently surreal
It’s where we dance with our ghosts
And find the courage to embrace all our foes

The hands of time are strangling your throat
You’ve been stumbling up and down that hill
Too afraid to let your guard down
So you plead forlorn when no one is around

You watch your male friends get greasy
Six-packs got crushed by pennies
No one tells you it’s okay to
Detox the flawed masculinity

Now your flight leaves in thirty minutes
You’re off to Atlantic City
You’re fond of wrong choices
‘Cause you get to play with consequences

They’ve asked you to be careless
Poured sweat and tears for what you wanted
Since growing up is growing numb
Let me ramble on for another eighteen pages

They were having a traditional Los Angeles-style pool party. She got the invite but she wasn’t feeling the vibe.

She turned away from the crowd, stepped into the restroom, and she looked into a mirror in her dark blue dress under crimson lights.

She sang quietly and dullishly, but she wasn’t without hope.

“Is someone in the crowd

The only thing you really see?

Watching while the world keeps spinning ‘round?

Somewhere there’s a place where I find

Who I’m gonna be

A somewhere that’s just waiting to be found”

She gently leaned back, tilted her head and closed her eyes in disbelief.

She turned and found her way back to the crowd, snowflakes pouring down on her bare shoulders; lovers dancing with their hands tied in slow motion, unbothered; the trumpet in the background getting louder as we saw someone leaped from the balcony -

And in a loud splash, the party resumed, some other guys jumped into the water as well; everyone was dancing to the beat as they shout out the verse:

“Someone in the crowd could be the one you need to know

The one to finally lift you off the ground

Someone in the crowd could take you where you want to go

Someone in the crowd could make you

Someone in the crowd could take you

Flying off the ground

If -”

We started spiraling with the camera as we took a glimpse of the Hollywood dreamers, the pageant pretenders, all jubilantly cheering as they turned into a swirl -

“ - you’re the someone - ”

We started spinning faster -

“ - ready - ”

Faster -

“ - to be - ”

Even faster -

“ - found!”

We finally stopped to watch the fireworks shooting across the sky and spraying neon paint across the dark canvas.

I’ve been to a party like that two months ago. I handled it with class but didn’t forgive the grudge.

In fact, it was party after party, night after sleepless nights. It really was an Endless Summer Vacation, just like the title of Miley Cyrus’s album.

I finally dropped niceties in my nightmares, but picked up other fears. I wished I hadn’t chosen this grotesque way of existence. Occasionally I wished my life was a little more interesting, but then I gladly enclosed my world into a boring box.

I wrote so many essays about maturing only to find that I’m not maturing after all. But during the Endless Summer Vacation, I liked that I wasn’t maturing. Independence sucks.

Having spent two months living and eventually utilizing escapism, I have some news for you:

If we can’t be retrospective, be observant. If we can’t be observant, be retrospective. If you can’t do both, consider throwing yourself off a bridge.

Try as we might, but sometimes goodbyes are just stubbornly bland. Sometimes the hesitation just has to attack at the last minute. Sometimes the bride or the groom just has to run away before the reverend arrives. That’s because only after we stop hearing unsolicited advice and suggestions from exquisite schemes do we make informed decisions.

If I remember correctly, in Harry Potter, the unbreakable vows were broken. And now, the Endless Summer Vacation is about to end.

Illusions of the final departure hit me so hard, I started finding ways of erasure, ways to climb back to the crib that hugged me tight and cheered me on for the past eighteen years.

But the time has come, I should stop living in denial and -

BEEP.

BEEP.

PLEASE STAY ON THE LINE. THE NUMBER YOU’VE DIALED IS UNAVAILABLE. WE’RE CHECKING CONNECTIONS.

BEEP.

BEEP.

BEEP.

THE NUMBER YOU’VE DIALED HAS PERMANENTLY STOPPED ITS SERVICE. YOU MAY HANG UP NOW.

BEEP.

It’s the once-in-every-four-years opportunity to gape at moments that alter human history and to tune in with millions and find yourself thinking, “What was I doing when I was his/her age?”: it’s the Olympics.

As the first year to be officially recognized as the first post-COVID year, 2024 brought a whole new dimension to the Olympics – social network vibrancy. Or as I’d like to put it, shit-posting energy. Unlike any other people around me, my primary source for all the Olympic news is Twitter. I caught the moment Yusef Dikec went viral when I saw a post from Twitter user “Internet Hall of Fame”. I caught the moment Imane Khelif’s gender became a controversy by watching the International Olympics Committee posting a joint statement on Twitter. I caught the moment Mr. Pommel Horse, Stephen Nedoroscik, played a Rubik’s cube with otherworldly speed on Twitter.

Since the Olympics is broadcasted by NBC in the United States and Saturday Night Live is turning 50 (FIFTY for crying out loud), I also got to see the SNL cast members embellishing the Olympics with the comedic vibe that proved to be indispensable for me, a guy who never takes sports seriously. Colin Jost was hitting it off at Tahiti Island with exclusive coverage of the surfers’ hair and a wall of skulls, Mikey Day and Marcelo Hernandez drove the interviewer nuts, and Heidi Gardner and Ego Nwodim seeing the Olympics for the first time. Even seeing them just makes me excited for SNL50. Saturday Night Live returns for its 50th season on September 28, and if I’m not watching the live stream that day, I’m waiting for the live.

Okay, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to Twitter to get today’s dose of shitposts now.

“It is now 90 seconds until midnight.”

Then she turned around and adjusted the Doomsday Clock.

When this happened, I was stuck on the interstate highway. My Uber driver was patient enough to pull over to the emergency lane and fix his car. I’m unsure of the issue to this day, but judging by the flashing signs on the dashboard, I think we ran out of gas.

“Well, we might be here for a while. Get your blankets ready.” He returned to the driver’s seat and closed the door.

“My WHAT, sir?”

“Your blanket. We’re spending the night here.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, do you expect the 911 to be here anytime soon?”

“I don’t have a blanket.”

“Well, good luck!”

He leaned back and fell asleep in a heartbeat.

I rolled down the window and looked around. Not a single car passed by. I opened the door and, in the midst of humid summer air, I yelled,

“Help!”

The way they did it in the cartoons. Unironically, nothing happened.

Gratefully, we got stuck in the morning. The sky was clear. Looking left then right, I crossed the lanes and stopped in the middle of the highway. I saw a lamp post a few steps away. Right in front of me, there’s a sign saying “Route 95.”

I stood there under the incandescent sunlight. Before I knew it, a conversation started playing in my head.

“7 days left and I’m already getting homesick. I haven’t even left home.”

“You’re the one who chose this, remember?”

“Yeah…” Side note to me who chose this: go to hell.

Prior to this conversation, I turned down her offer to play poker. Then I saw the countdown saying there were 7 days left, and it woke me up: I shouldn’t turn down anything from now on, or I’ll regret it for the next four years.

“I don’t know how to play poker anymore, it’s been too long. But I’d like to chat.”

“Okay.”

We plunged into the sofa.

“So how was your talk with that counselor?” She was referring to some counselor I found in my inbox, assigned by the university.

“Great. I got a lot of information. I think I have a laid-out plan.”

No I fucking don’t. To quote the great Phoebe Buffay, I don’t even have a “pl.”

“A friend of mine who went to the US in hopes of a better career called me recently, and …” as she unfolded her story, my ears couldn’t help but start to, as usual, loath her ever-lasting southern accent, her carelessness with pronunciation, her flattened, indifferent tongue.

“Maybe it’s nice to leave,” I heard a voice in my head, “to distance yourself from the benevolent mundane after 18 years. You might get a new iPad, might meet new friends. And as for the studies – who knows? Maybe it won’t be as hard as they say.”

Then I picked up her voice. “Don’t get affected by those hipsters, playboys and clowns, remain true to yourself at all times.”

“Definitely.” I replied.

And did this reassurance alleviate anxiety? No. My brain returned to the swirl of intrusive thoughts. What if I met a drug dealer who concealed really well? What if I got lonely and scared?

Oh, wait, I have an answer to that second question – I ruminate! And when I ruminate, I review every single thing that may have leaned toward a wrong direction and carve it so hard into my mind that I make sure it’ll haunt me for years to come.

And I hope this mechanism can keep the devils away. Also, I can still see my parents on a screen anytime I want to.

I was reminded of the last words of Christof in The Truman Show:

“You can’t leave, Truman. You’re scared.”

But it took seconds for Truman to leave that door and never look back.

Would I have the courage to do what he did?

“I think I did.” For some reason, I said this out loud, and I suddenly looked up.

My Uber driver was nowhere in sight. On my right, an empty car lay by the side of the emergency lane.

I was alone on Route 95.

走在鲜花盛开的小径旁
听到鸟儿在林间放声歌唱
这是青春的歌声
这是青春的芳香

可谁知道
在这片宁静的土地上
有多少有志青年
掀起万丈狂澜
为人民的幸福生活 不怕受伤
为祖国的美好生活 无惧死亡
他们用一声又一声嘶吼
唤醒铁房子里麻木的灵魂
用一次又一次拼搏
诠释自己的青春

历史的硝烟不再弥漫
黄土地上光辉灿烂
新时代的号角在天地间回响
二十一世纪的青年
要用奋斗和责任
书写光辉新篇章

原文写于2021年9月12日，一次语文作业

我第一次“看”到陶渊明的时间应该算晚的。小学时未曾背过一首陶渊明的诗，只在“语文园地”的“日积月累”中见过他的“采菊东篱下，悠然见南山。”小学的语文老师给了这句话极高的赞赏，并花了很长一段时间进行讲解。但我没有对这句话产生多么深刻的印象，只记得脑海中呈现出一个身着白袍的人站在云雾缭绕，山色朦胧下的花海里，摘下一朵花，向远方和未来送上诚挚的祝福。

后来到了初中，对陶渊明的认识更加深了。那句话变成了一首诗，叫《饮酒（其五）》。“结庐在人境，而无车马喧。问君何能尔，心远地自偏。采菊东篱下，悠然见南山。山气日夕佳，飞鸟相与还。此中有真意，欲辨已忘言。”从他的诗句中，曾经脑海中的那个片段有了前因后果，鲜活了起来，在画面的基础上，还有了声音：在山峦脚下有一间小木屋，木屋旁是一片田地，田地旁是一片花海。但就在不远处，市井的喧闹嘈杂闯入了这片静谧的天地。在花海中有一个人，身着白袍，头戴斗笠，他好像什么都没听见，低下头，弯下腰，好像在挑选自己最中意的一朵花。他找到一朵，轻轻摘下，捧住它，任由自己的目光从花瓣慢慢移向远方。远方，是云雾之下轮廓模糊的山川。夕阳的光来了，清扫开朦胧的雾，天空上的飞鸟成群，和他一起回家。还有什么比这安适的生活更幸福吗？

能够写出这样诗篇的人，有过怎样的故事？产生这样的疑问大概是因为这首诗与以往任何我学的诗都截然不同。当我看到杜甫，我想到的是在风雨，烟火或者白茫茫的世界里一个“白头搔更短”的人在感叹大千世界的一切，因为他坚信那些事情的责任在他身上；当我看到李白，我想到的是在堆成小山的酒坛中一个“举杯邀明月”的人在用笔勾勒出自己向往的世界的模样，在各种颠沛流离中，他仍然保持着对浪漫的不懈追求；但当我看到陶渊明时，这两种特征都不适用了。曾经他也想过承担责任，但那些阴险狡诈的人一次又一次地排挤他，诬陷他，他忽然意识到自己每时每刻的心思无法放在实现梦想上，相反，却放在了如何躲过他人的陷阱上，放在了如何和小人斤斤计较上。于是他不愿再在这黑暗的职场上逗留；但他也不曾一味的追求浪漫和潇洒，而是以一个普通人的身份活在一个平凡的世界，但却总能找到乐趣。每一朵花，每一株草，都好像有话要对他说，而他也乐意听。只有他能从这样的日子里找到乐趣，因为，他已经和自然相依相伴了。

我看陶渊明，他在桃花林间的世界里“并怡然自乐”。

原文写于2021年10月15日，一次语文作业

我不喜欢豪放的人，同时，我也不喜欢豪放的词。因为，在我的认知中，豪放无非是一种自欺欺人的天马行空，胡思乱想。

我的这种固定认知并非毫无依据。回顾古今上下，那些豪放的诗词，怎少得了“江山”“天地”这样的字眼？怎少得了“拍”“狂”“破”“飞”的动作和状态？怎少得了字里行间都写满的愤慨、不满、气吞山河？最后，且最重要的是，当我们反观这些豪放派诗词作者的真实处境，不难发现，诗中的大部分内容大部分都与现实，包括他们自己，完全相反。他们几乎都是在一醉方休之后，抄起笔来，撕张纸，在蜿蜒盘旋中一气呵成，最终被世人奉为“巨作”。

初二时的一节语文课，让我对豪放二字有了另一面的认识。

那节语文课很普通。我们要讲李清照的《渔家傲（天接云涛连晓雾）》。老师依然按照往常的手段，从通读全文开始，到解释每一句话的意思，但我却读出了前所未有的不同感触。

天接云涛连晓雾，星河欲转千帆舞。仿佛梦魂归帝所。闻天语，殷勤问我归何处。

我报路长嗟日暮，学诗谩有惊人句。九万里风鹏正举。风休住，蓬舟吹取三山去！

我们随着诗人一起失去重力，漂浮于空中，看到的景象不是他人笔下的天高地阔，山的巍峨，水的澎湃，人的自我崇拜，而是粉彩斑斓的浪漫，星河的缓缓移动，云雾的迷蒙缭绕。这是与其他豪放派诗词截然不同的豪放。李清照不再将“豪放”二字限定于“快、猛、大”的刻板印象，虽然她把别的诗词中整个场景的浩大也放在了自己的诗中，但她却抹去了那些不必要的繁杂冗长的描写，如“浪淘尽”（《念奴娇·赤壁怀古》），“凭阑处”（《满江红·怒发冲冠》），“左牵黄，右擎苍”（《江城子·密州出猎》），随后，将一切可能的“大动作”慢放，但在慢中却仍能体现宏伟的景物，壮烈的情怀，如“星河”的慢慢回“转”，船“帆”的翩翩起“舞”。

同时，对于自己情感描写的处理，她也没有像岳飞那样的“仰天长啸，壮怀激烈”（《满江红·怒发冲冠》），而是把情感融进一句“我报路长嗟日暮，学诗谩有惊人句”，是对自己空有才华无处施展的无奈和一声“嗟”叹。全诗中，没有一个字与感情相关，但每一个字却都是感性的产物。

悲观至此，作者笔锋一转，重回“九万里风鹏正举”之下对未来的期盼，对生活的憧憬，再次点亮了诗人的眼睛，她相信自己总会踏上一叶小舟，乘着风飞向远方。

“豪放”中竟然也可以有温柔，可以有“转”“舞”的缓慢动作，以及“殷勤”的温暖和关切；可以有现实，可以有“学诗谩有惊人句”“早生华发”（《念奴娇·赤壁怀古》），以及相比于“星河”之下自己渺小的“梦魂”；除了壮志难酬的慷慨激昂，也可以存在其他的情感，可以有“嗟”的长叹，“笑”的自嘲。

我开始重新看待豪放派的诗词。诚然，豪放可能是不切实际的，但这并不代表诗中没有现实的东西。它更像是长时间聚焦于眼下事务之后的短暂远眺，在休息时的放飞自我，任由想象带着灵魂去世界的每个角落，无论真假，无论对错。而这些想象是源自词人本身浓烈的情绪渲染，所以辛弃疾会在失意之时“醉里挑灯看剑，梦回吹角连营”，却最终“可怜白发生”（《破阵子·为陈同甫赋壮词以寄之》）；苏轼会在生不逢时的感慨中期待着“持节云中，何日遣冯唐”（《江城子·密州出猎》）。

豪放，不失为另一种看待世界的态度。

原文写于2021年12月16日，一次语文作业

无论是十二年前还是现在，当身边有人提起中国四大名著时，我首先想到的总是《红楼梦》。如果有人问我为什么，我会笑着回答：《红楼梦》在标题上就已经赢了。一场梦里的亦虚亦实、如梦如 幻、荣华富贵、光怪陆离和穷困潦倒，这本书里都有。至于“红楼”二字，确定了整本书的主题色，也提前为读者绘制出贾史王薛四大家族建筑的宏伟感。

《红楼梦》是曹雪芹的日记。名人日记的历史价值在近些年在世界各地都得到了重新审视。爱迪生文件项目委员会的会长鲍勃·罗森博格通过对爱迪生的手稿、笔记、日记、论文等纸张十八年的研 究，发现了爱迪生在生前已经受到公众广泛认可和赞誉下内心安静寡言的一面。中国鲁迅研究会通过对鲁迅日记的分析，可以瞥见现代文学史的发展。而《红楼梦》中的家世兴衰，恰好映射了曹雪 芹本人的的经历。曹雪芹的祖父曹寅因被康熙指定接任江宁织造，家中金玉满堂。而皇位更迭，雍正五年，曹雪芹十三岁时，父亲被革职入狱，次年被抄家，从此一蹶不振。同样，贾府因太上皇的荣恩而享受的元春省亲也在朝政更替之后成为了新皇帝眼中的旧势力。

我们要学《红楼梦》，因为它装着曹雪芹的人生和清代皇朝的缩影。

《红楼梦》在中外文坛上举足轻重的地位不言而喻：它是具有世界影响力的人情小说，中国封建社会的百科全书，传统文化的集大成者，是从四大名著中唯一一个各个角度展现女性美的史诗著作。《红楼梦》在世界面前展现的复杂、精妙的人际关系和紧密、出神入化的情节起伏使毛泽东称它为“中 国的第五大发明”。而我认为《红楼梦》最令人赞叹的地方在于每一个人都能从中有所收获。我们可以从贾府的楼阁中寻觅中国古代传统建筑风貌，可以从每一顿盛宴的餐点中嗅到中华美食的精致，可以从亭台草木之间探索中国园林的设计理念。

我们要学《红楼梦》，因为它既是世界的宝藏，又是每个人的知识库。

在四大名著中，《红楼梦》独有残缺的美。前八十回是谁写的，后四十回是谁补的，目前尚无定论。至今广泛流传的《红楼梦》有十个版本之多，红学界研究指定可能的作者有65位。作为《红楼 梦》情节真实性的重要参考依据，《脂砚斋重评石头记》中的脂砚斋与曹雪芹的关系同样尚未确定。

我们要学《红楼梦》，因为它给我们留下想象的空间。

原文写于2024年4月7日，一次语文作业

在首都机场的一家面馆里，我爸回忆爷爷当年送他上大学时的场景。

“那趟火车总共二十多个小时，比这趟航班还要长，我从衡阳去上海。当年九月开学的时候，我也以为可能很久不会见到爸爸妈妈了，没想到一个月后的国庆节他们就到了上海。”

我不为所动。我不可能在国庆的七天里买四张华盛顿和北京之间的机票，因为一张就是九千块钱。下一次回家的窗口是四个月之后的圣诞节。

本次赴美，爸爸帮忙送我，还可以在夏村呆七天。我们大概地聊了落地后第一时间要干的事情，入学后第一时间要干的事情，还有大学四年要干的事情。当我们都不知道说什么的时候，我半开玩笑地说了句。

“好了，我要准备出发了，我明天再哭吧。”

他们笑了。“明天也不要哭。”

我们走向国际出发下的中国海关，和我一样行色匆匆的留学生已经在往国际出发牌子下的箭头方向走了。我不知道从哪个地方开始我会需要和妈妈说再见，所以每向出境的大门迈出一步，我握妈妈的手就越紧一点。

在安检的门口，我感受告别之前最后的温度。头脑一片空白，但也有的时候会确认是不是东西都带齐了。

“睡裤带了吧？”

“带了。”

我们终于排到了安检的柜台前。当柜台的安检员在我的机票上用力地盖了四个章之后，他对我妈说：“无登机牌的旅客不能进入安检区。”

所以我看向她，挥手再见。安检员们不希望她挡路，所以她走到了柜台前的大门口，在一扇门后面站着。

我没有停止看向她的位置，也没有停止挥手。我一只手把电子产品拿了出来，放到灰色的筐里，一只手不协调地挥着，有那么一会儿甚至在向安检员挥手。

当我再抬起头看向她的时候，她的面孔短暂地消失了，然后出现在了门与玻璃幕墙的缝隙之中。从玻璃上反射的影子我能看到，她还在挥手。

于是我一边往前走，一边回头看，不知道跌跌撞撞了多少下才走到金属探测门下。不是第一次去机场了，安检需要的抬手和转身我都熟悉了，我可以全神贯注地看着夹缝里的她。因为光线不好，我只能看到一个面孔的小影子在夹缝里活动，每走一步，她的面孔就缩小一点。不知为何，这个近大远小的必然令我沮丧至极，但是我知道妈妈还在那个地方，于是我继续向那个影子挥手。

当我低头把电子设备重新装回包里的时候，我再抬起头。

那个影子已经走了。

我把行李箱推起来，背起包，向我爸爸的方向走。这就是告别啊，我对自己说，脑子依然一片空白，没有情绪。

然而我的头莫名其妙地往后转向了刚刚妈妈影子所在的那个夹缝里。在我反应过来之前，我的大脑已经开始回放她那逐渐缩小的影子了。突然间我感到气管的阀门正在慢慢地关上，我的面部肌肉开始发痛。热水聚集在我的眼皮间，然后像刀一样划下我的脸。

一点点看着自己心爱的人离去比直截了当地消失糟糕多了。这并非温水煮青蛙的麻木——我们会知道离别的时刻就在不远处了，而我们要亲眼看着自己的脚被时间推着走到离别的门前。这是噩梦里常见的伎俩，这是剥去麻醉剂后慢动作下的手术。

而如果要问哪句话最能令人潸然，那还得是“怎么了？”。这句“说者有心，听者无意”的话，每次都出于双方都能理解的好意，但是总是戳在负面情绪的痛点上。

前往国际候机大厅的小火车的扶梯上，我爸把手搭在我的肩上，问我，“没事吧？”

我用手掐住上嘴唇，眼泪更多了。我很感激他问了我这句话，这样哭得更彻底。

于是时隔七年，我再次踏上了前往国际航线的小火车，眼泪已尽，但鼻子依然发烫。

在我宿舍楼门前的一架长椅上，爸爸和我进行他临行前的谈话。

我说，“我选了最冒险的国家，最冒险的学校，最冒险的专业，因为我听到很多人说，一些错误的选择让他们发现了精彩的人生。”

爸爸和妈妈是世界上仅有的两个在我情绪低落时依然在听我说什么的人。他解释为什么我选择的国家并不冒险，我选择的学校并不冒险，我选择的专业并不冒险，他也说，那些错误的选择为下一次正确的选择奠定了基石。

第二天早上，我在他的酒店门口为他送行。

他和另一个人拼了从夏村到杜勒斯机场的车。我没能陪他去机场，因为车程要两个小时，路费要一千块钱。

他的车在酒店门前掉头，他把车窗按了下来，我看着车里的他，微笑着挥手。

这个时候，过去七天里的每一次外出游玩和买必需品的瞬间开始慢慢在脑海中漂移。

他的车开到主干道上的时候我还在笑，但是眼睛已经开始酸了。挥手这个动作好像已经可以直接条件反射到哭泣了。

妈妈打视频电话过来了，她猜到了我在安检之后的样子，也预料到了我今天的样子。“你觉得你为什么哭呢？”

“不知道。”

“你还记得当时在面馆我和爸爸说什么吗？”

我擦干了眼泪。“明天也不要哭。”

后记

如此滞后地记录一件对我来说如此重要的事是不可容忍的。但原因也很无力——为了保证能过海关，我把电脑备份后抹掉了，这一周很忙，今天才重新装好 Office。

好多细节具体怎么样记不清了，所以写出了又一篇流水账。但倘若我真的记得那些细节，我可能也不敢描述他们了，又会想哭。

喜怒哀乐，酸甜苦辣，人生的旅途里，少一样都不行。现在该苦了，我想我会习惯的，毕竟走到今天也是苦着过来的。