我常告訴那些保持著疑問和不忿的人說：你必須承認這個世界上每個人都有病。但其實我想說的是：我病的不輕卻沒有一種藥能拯救我的心。我以為愛能拯救自己，卻發現人得不到自己沒有的東西；我以為知識能告訴我真理，卻發現我其實還深陷在無知的深淵裡。這個時候才知道那句話其實是真理，正因為我病的不輕，所以我知道 這個世界上每個人都有病。只希望他們曾說過的那句：當你篤定某件事時，世界總會找到一個角度來攻破你的堅定。才是這個世界的真理，因為它已應證了除此之外的一切事情，更勝於宗教裡曾試圖讓我相信的那些“真理”，所以我總對那些試圖反駁我的人說：因為我有病。我渴望真的存在某個大愛無上的存在，但他從未能治癒我這不比他人痛苦的疾病。47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzcucjaKWNY
我喜歡睡覺，尤其是那種一夜無夢的每個日子裡，因為就算是在夢裡我也從來身不由己，做著自己都不知道為什麼去做的每件事情，雖然偶爾也會期待夢境，但醒來也僅僅是對荒謬的質疑和失重般的無力。因為無夢的時間裡或許是我在枯燥日子裡少有能真正屬於我自己，我渴望著一場長眠，如同吸血鬼般近乎永眠，並不是因為我有多疲憊，而是那種不需要為了什麼而醒的長眠。47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY0ZmZFihwr
我不愛任何人，也包括我自己，或許我已經忘了什麼是愛。記得父親曾經告訴我不要把家裡當旅館，但母親卻說她知道我缺失了些什麼，因此總把家裡當旅館。我不認床，畢竟能躺下的地方何處不能睡呢？即便我並不喜歡旅館，正如同我並不愛我自己，但我不討厭旅館，但我確實討厭自己，並不是因為我活在這裡，而是因為我活在這裡。47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7nKgkx9Ush
47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoXwu9B75SJ
I often tell those who harbor doubts and resentment: "You must admit that everyone in this world is sick." But what I really mean is: I am severely ill, yet no medicine can save my heart.
I once thought love could save me, only to discover that a person cannot obtain what they do not possess. I thought knowledge could reveal the truth to me, only to find that I am still deeply mired in an abyss of ignorance. It was only then that I realized the truth of that very phrase I uttered—it is precisely because I am severely ill that I know everyone in this world is sick.
I only hope that the phrase they once told me—"When you are certain of something, the world will always find an angle to breach your conviction"—is the true law of this world. Because it has borne witness to the falsity of everything else, surpassing even the "truths" that religion once attempted to make me believe. That is why I always tell those who try to refute me: "Because I am sick." I long for the existence of some Supreme Being of Great Love, yet He has never been able to cure this ailment of mine, which is no less painful than anyone else's.
I like to sleep, especially on those nights devoid of dreams, because even in my dreams, I am never my own master, carrying out actions for reasons I myself don't understand. Although I occasionally look forward to a dream, waking up leaves me only with a questioning of the absurdity and a sense of weightless helplessness. Perhaps, time spent without dreams is one of the few moments in this monotonous life that truly belongs to me. I long for a long slumber, a sleep almost eternal, like a vampire's, not because I am so weary, but because it is a long sleep for which there is no reason to wake.
I do not love anyone, including myself; perhaps I have forgotten what love is. I remember my father once told me not to treat home like a hotel, yet my mother said she understood that I was missing something, and thus she always treated home like a hotel for me. I am not particular about where I sleep; after all, where can't one sleep when there's a place to lie down? Even though I do not like hotels, just as I do not love myself, I do not dislike hotels, but I truly dislike myself. It is not because I live here, but because I live here.
ns216.73.216.175da2
and then Add to home screen.