在还没有默契的时候,沟通像在雾里摸索,哪怕小心翼翼也不一定能抵达彼此。你说我们一起努力。
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"I will handle you with care."
"So will I."
这段路程,你能陪我走多久就多久吧。
在还没有默契的时候,沟通像在雾里摸索,哪怕小心翼翼也不一定能抵达彼此。你说我们一起努力。
---------
"I will handle you with care."
"So will I."
这段路程,你能陪我走多久就多久吧。
世间囚笼千万种。虽随生命诞生的那一刻便被各种无形限制无尽的可能,但我们终究有挣脱的能力。我们只需要为其负责。而生命不能够全然无重。我们总是要走进囚笼的,只为让生命有一些重量。
我只能尽最大的可能带着自觉,筛选并自愿走进其中。 至此我从未停止追求和维护心头上的一切。我愿为此一直被囚禁。但囚笼那一道门本没上锁,我也随时可以离开。
我将你字里行间藏着的潜台词解读成你的盼望,不安,委屈和压力,也感受你的稳定和坚持。我也因此而感到前所未有的安心。也许在不信任和被真诚打动的矛盾下,我该不顾一切勇敢一次?不再被动接受,而是主动守护和等待。
频临失控以前悬崖勒马。庆幸自己再一次成功不喂养情绪而选择与其静静地待着。这样咆哮着的心思我竟想要让你和我一起承担,我怎么能够对你如此不公。这本不是什么高尚的事,在世俗眼里这本就是维持人与人之间的和平的本分。也许对于他人我守住了底线,但于我,我艰辛地抵抗住了那个阴暗自私的自己。毕竟你是一份美好。感情这等事最终还是得建立在善之上。我愿你一切都好。而我也会再次痊愈,继续滋养心里还不够壮大的爱和温暖。
终于在漂亮的绿椅上肆意地让思绪奔腾。也不知道时间过了多少,但心是静下来了。虽然无法把想法完整地写下,但至少我能够就一缕缕想法去梳理或延伸。往常我喜欢建立新的框架系统或列单迎接新年。但今年我做不到。我决定像小时候一样在混乱中获得乐趣。 当然我还是享受记录和列单的。但本身就是个混乱的人却又该死地想要追求一种永恒并完全能够被掌控的规律或系统,以至于所有变数在其中都是可控或能够被接纳整合的。但这样的重量已经让我的精神负荷不来。或者说,本应该拿来享受生活的注意力都被我投注在整理规划和记录。只为了寻求安全感,一种本来就可以拿得起放得下的飘渺的感觉。我一直不愿意忘记过去,痛苦不堪的,辉煌的,有趣的,也不愿放弃心里无数个梦想和点子和一些一场人生根本不足以实现的各种可能性。我想要满足有故事的虚荣,和以那些未实现的自己为傲。但这一些于我根本无益。我说的是对于故事感和用目标来支撑的支柱。我需要的只是一直让我生活下去的养分。我也不需要对未来有太多的想法。也许未来我会遇到意想不到的自己也不一定。我也许会喜欢那时候的自己。其实到最后不过是想要有个自己喜欢的人生和得到一个喜欢的自己。所以喜欢很重要。有时候及时行乐,有时候一些喜欢需要经历一些磨练或等待才能得到,有一些喜欢不可能被也不一定要被实现。无论如何我觉得围绕着自己喜欢去思考和过生活总没有错的。只是这些喜欢还是得与世界和其他人的种种平衡。比如维持着群体运行的社会规范和责任,我还是得去顾虑和照顾。把这些当成底线和自动规范的系统, 其余地我依然可以随心所欲,只把注意力放在喜欢的事情上,适当地接纳一定程度地混乱,只要对自己和社会负责就好。所以接下来我要把注意力,时间和金钱,投资在各个短期和长期的喜欢里。那些不能被实现的,就算了咯。而记录和列单不再追求完整性,它们只要能够让我记得完成责任和整理当下就可以了。
有余裕的时间去挥霍总是好的。毕竟最终也不会有人把什么当一回事,但当下一切又显得何其举足轻重。因此日子怎么看便怎么过,哪有什么必然的说法。但就算我因而迷恋边界模糊的一切,承诺于我而言是最后不可轻易践踏的底线,尤其答应的是自己的良知。也许无关道德底线,因为我内心没有清晰衡量对错的标准,但我能感受到苦痛。别人的苦痛。带来苦痛这等事哪怕无关乎对错,也不能因我而起。
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值得庆幸的是我的心依然跳动依然温热,哪怕需要付出代价,也不愿灭了它的鲜活。
我是谁我需要什么我必须要怎样,很多时候都是别人告诉我的故事和他们对我的想象。而我总是相信以后不断猜疑。所以谁和谁的本质是否是能够被得知的事情。又或许我们本来就只是装着故事的容器。我们本是一场空。
当想象力足以撑起了我整个内心的世界,虚实的界限极其模糊。因为相信自己想象的故事,我竟可怕地可以因此改变心情,想法甚至决定,哪怕是截然不同的故事而带来极端的感受。
因彼此间有空白处能任由我自己想象种种的可能性,我用这样的手段筑起了对于一件事一个人的认识,多不公平。
现在对一个人同时有着不一样的想象,我无法知道哪一种想象带来的心情才是我最真切的感受。从未有过如此复杂的心情。想靠近,更想毅然离去。
(我想更贴切地用文字形容这件事,但目前做不到。)
把时间分割成块给予生活各种琐事,日子四平八稳地让我恐慌。心是出奇地平静了有生以来最久的一次,也许正处于顺境,又或许是眼窗外心门里再也不是过不去的坎。但是竟连梦里都见不着奇境,我惧怕自己鲜活不再,像死咸鱼一般苟且偷生。宿命论还是人定胜天似乎不再那么重要,与世界一同历经了灾难,以往的梦想或执念都被当成笑话卸下了,我甚至近乎崇尚平庸。因为平庸才更易于贴近自己。我没有被赋予拯救世界的使命和才能,因此我只管好好好生活这一块。然而时间久了便不自知地成了死咸鱼。看来我得拯救自己。好好生活非得过得如此一般,精彩一些显然还是好事。但我忘了如何把日子精彩地过,睡前竟也是和 chatgpt 聊天后睡得香。也罢。明天要如何精彩,明天再思考。
I have come to realise that my obsession with trying to understand death is futile, what more preparing for it; as it is almost impossible to understand death intellectually for we will only get to know it as we experience it, and that's the moment of revelation of what death is; and there is nothing we can do to prepare for it as it happens; when it happens that nothing could be done in anticipation to welcome death (avoiding it is totally impossible anyway).
But what I can do is to have that fortitude to face death whenever it arises (or in general, all adversities and pain), not as to confront the object of fear, but rather to accept then to embrace and take the moments in as experiences without judgements. It is not endurance I am mentioning here, but a kind of mental strength that is transient of experiencing moments as neither good nor bad.
With that in mind, now I shall think how do I cultivate the mental strength in me? Do I need to understand in order to have it? Or simply be.
Completed my first read of the year, the little prince, as the third revisit to the story, to find myself feeling very subtly a sense of grief, most likely over the unresolved pasts that calls for my unwilling acceptance. Although I recognise a bit of myself in each of the characters, I feel the loss of the fox or the pilot most intensely, having to always bid farewell and part.
But I shall understand that I too, can be as brave as little prince, to protect the one rose that is unique to him, even if it hurts.
In each man and woman I adored, I placed the burden of teaching myself to be myself on them, in the hope of acquiring that vision or metaphor that I think I need in order to like myself, just slightly better. So I followed, I chased after the impressions I formed around them, rather than the true knowledge of their beings.
In my (hopefully) last episode of hopeless withdrawal from that boundary that I can never go beyond, I figured that I need to be my own mentor, and be responsible to bring myself to long for something I truly want, to be someone I really am. Of course it was by no choice that I had to come to this revelation, as the pain and hopelessness of withdrawal increased each time I had to part with someone (or an ideal, or just an idea). Attaching my meaning in life on them is dangerous. My obsessions explain it all, for my world collapsed every time I think I have lost them. In fact, it's all along myself beside me. That's all it takes to go on in life, or even to build it, however I like. So from now on, it has to be me teaching myself every moments, alongside exchanges with some inspiring others.
so that one day, I could love everyone, including myself, fearlessly and sincerely.
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to do this, I will try to express more to crystallise what I have to teach myself.
Tonight at its tipping point, the heaviness both in my heart and body have gone to the unbearable extent. With the hope of being transported to the currently-unknown-catharsis where I can find solace in, where I need not do anything more than just being told that it is fine to be where I am who I am now, that struggles in life are real and absurd at the same time, that choosing this over that does not necessarily mean anything, I reach out to Satre's and Camus's words, and the world and people they crafted.
No, its not an escape that's most urgently in need now, but a model or a character that speaks of different possibilites of living.
I hope I find that in Nausea.
I hope I find my voice back.
要用真的伤才能检验我能负荷的程度到哪里,吧。
我把曾经认为很珍贵的东西奢侈地挥霍,只为追求我还看不到的新景象。冒险本来就是主动去触犯未知,主动从旧有的出走。乘坐纸鹤,我往荆棘前进。我在前方等我。
In the beginning I was so young and such a stranger to myself I hardly existed. I had to go out into the world and see it and hear it and react to it, before I knew at all who I was, what I was, what I wanted to be. —- Mary Oliver
To the sel(ves),
please reconcile with each other one day, so that I (we) am not too far from the bliss of inner peace.
Dear me, please be humble and be brave to make mistakes. It is totally fine to be not good, as long as you have tried your best. Everything will be fine. I will be fine.
