LOST, in this city

我要承認自己愚笨，那就不會為做不好事情而憂傷，不會有人失望，自己也不會失望。為什麼總跨不過去另一邊呢？為什麼不能踰越呢？小女孩看到鐵網內的汽球，「很想要。」於是無需思索便爬上鐵網，父親卻猛然阻止，「傻架？因住人地拉你！落黎！」誰？他自己對吧。只是小小的一個界限已不能踰越，是誰才是真正被禁制的人呢？違背規則是如此可怕嗎？什麼是規則？

難怪我多麼喜歡狂風雷暴，即使耀眼光芒的太陽也能被遮蔽。我想到了Kurt Cobain，我總是想到了他，你找到答案了嗎？

I’ve to admit I’m stupid. Then I won’t be worried if I have done a bad job. No one will be disapponinted, neither will I. Why can’t I cross the border to the other side? Why can’t we transgress? A little girl saw a ballon within the fence. “I want it.” And she climbed the fence without thinking. Her father yelled, “You dumb? Someone will catch you! Get down!” Who was going to catch her? He was the one I guess. Only was a small border but she couldn’t cross it. Who is the real one being repressed? Is it so horrible to violate the rules? What are rules?

No wonder why I love thunderstorm so much. Even the dazzling sun can be covered by it. I think of Kurt Cobain. I always think of him. You’ve found the answer yet?

I remember a man. At school, I met the man again, the one I met on the bus months ago.  I doubted if they were the same person. I was nervous. I couldn’t remember his face. I thought I was stupid. After all, it didn’t matter to me. Nothing matters. I remember I used to say I was getting better. Now I say I’ll get better. I remember the doctor asked me if I was tired. I’m tired. Walking is tired. Talking is tired. Even sleeping is tired. I remember I dreamt of him. He haunted me. I broke his camera viciously. He said he remembered my malign face. I said not to ask for my forgiveness. I remember waking up thinking if I really had a malign face. I’ve to think it over. I change my point of view to everything I come up with. I think carefully. My thoughts are too much, too confused and too tiring. They’re flying too fast. I remember I’ve to draw. Draw those thoughts that repeat themselves again. They won’t go away, so I draw them. I remember hugs. We hug because we need consolation, and consolation comes from a sense of safety. But hugs between strangers are mere hugs. They don’t have any meaning. Even if they have, you can never know what they’re. Who can tell one’s feeling so clearly? I remember sitting there, and let my thoughts surround me layers by layers.

生活是永遠說不完的一個話題，沒有答案，太多問題，猶如歷史，不斷重複回轉多少次，還是同一個故事，生活是什麼？歷史是什麼？套用The History Boys的一句說話就是，”It’s just one fucking thing after another” 。

Life is a topic that never ends. No answer, too many questions. Just like history, keeps revolving and repeating itself again and again, the same old story. What is life? What is history? A line from The History Boys, “it’s just one fucking thing after another”.

常說空閒的時候要做什麼什麼，但真的到了有空時，其實只是「攤」在家中做不出個所以來。不是不想做，而是早已失去了衝勁和動力，被忙碌的時刻所磨滅掉。在這個崎型的社會裡，做得少會被人說懶惰，可做得多我又自覺愚蠢只會聽人擺佈跟著規矩行事，我也想努力，可是毫無方向，我看不見將來，甚至看不見明天，今天還沒過去我已為明天而難過。社會要求你高學歷，可高學歷不等於有知識，說得好聽點是高學歷，可最後還不是養家買樓結婚生仔，同一條公式，人人如此不論高低，讀了幾多年都好，得到的不過是一張白字上的幾個中文字加幾個英文字，而在社會裡，這就代表了你的價值。知識是什麼有人會在意嗎？我想知道非洲大遷徙時動物會否把沿途的水喝光、把食物吃光，可是和這個城市這個社會無關，他們不會在意你知道了這些東西，因為他們不會關心這些東西，他們只在意那張代表你的紙。我們學到的是規範了的框框，框框裡的東西，連知識的毛皮也不如，卻有人在自吹自擂，他說得好，人的目光就往他身上看，在速食的年代誰會有空考究？在這個世界裡沒有必然的事，沒有理所當然，付出了不一定有收穫，也不一定就是想要的東西，所追尋的究竟是夢想抑或只是眾人排遣出來的所謂「理想」，當迷失在其中時，看得清自己真正所想或是受眾人影響？看George Orwell的Nineteen Eighty-four不是說了二加二也不一定等於四嗎？雖然是個虛構的極權世界，但誰知這不過是一場夢？I always say that when I’m free I’ll do this or do that. But when it actually happens, I’ll do nothing except lying on the sofa like a dead man. Not that I don’t want to do but I lost my power and interest which is ground by the everyday work. In this freaking society, they’ll say you’re lazy if you work too less, but if I work too much I’ll consider myself stupid as I only work for the rules. I want to work hard too, but for what? I can’t see the future, not even tomorrow. I’ve already felt sorry for tomorrow when today is still here. The society demands you to have high education, but high education doesn’t mean you have knowledge. We’re all the same that have to earn a living and get marry and have children, no matter you have high education or not, it’s the same formula. High education only means some Chinese and a few English words in a paper. But this represents your value in this city. Who cares what the knowledge is. I want to know if the animals in Africa will eat all the food and drink all the water out on the way of migration. But this has nothing to do with the city, so they don’t care if you know it or not. They only care about the paper that represents you. What we learn is something inside the border that is set by them, which is only a sand in the knowledge. But there’s always someone who is proud of it and boast about it. People respect him if he is good at talking. No one have time to examine the accuracy of his speech in this generations. In this world, there’s nothing can be certain, you may not get what you want even you work hard for it. The thing you get may not be the thing you want. Is this what you want or just a dream what the others want you to have? When you’re so lost in it, how do you know clearly that your thoughts are really your own thoughts and not somebody else’s? Ain’t George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighteen-four says that two plus two not necessarily equals to four? Though it is only an imagined totalitarian society but who knows we’re not living in a dream right now?

「太瘦了你，不要再減肥了。」我討厭他們這樣說，瘦就一定是減肥了的嗎？我喜歡吃東西，我吃很多的東西，我常常覺得肚子餓，可我還是瘦下去，是因為我想得太多嗎？是因為我經常都不快樂嗎？但我可以怎樣呢？我不快樂，但我沒有對任何人說為何我傷心難過，他們都不能忍受傷心的人，現在可能不會，但總有一天他們受夠了，他們會厭倦，總是會厭倦的，誰會受得了一個經常傷心的人？所以在他們厭倦前我把難過縫紉在喉頭裡，假裝一個笑容很容易，他們都寧願相信表面的東西，無人會發現。可我總要發洩吧？(所以身體又病又瘦了嗎？)這裡成為我唯一的地方嗎？可我連這裡都隱瞞了，連文字都忍著不寫出來，然後我記起陳之藩先生都是一個悲觀的人，他說過把悲觀的想法都收起是很不衛生的。那就倒出來吧，統統都倒在這裡吧……

“You’re too thin. Don’t keep going on a diet.” I hate them saying all those things. I’m not going on a diet. I like to eat. I eat too much and still I feel hungry all the time. But I’m thin. Is it because I think too much? Is it because I’m too sad? What can I do? I can’t tell everybody that I’m sad. They can’t endure it. Maybe they can stand it now but one day, someday they’ll have enough of it. They’ll get tired of it. They always get tired of everything. Who can endure someone who is sad all the time? So before they get tired of me I sewed my sadness in my throat and fake a smile. It’s so easy to fake a smile. They won’t notice anything. They rather believe the surface. No one will discover anything. But I have to let it off other ways, right?(that’s why I’m sick and have got skinnier?) Is this the only place? But still I keep hiding and can’t write a bit about my sadness. Then I remember Professor Chen Chifan was a pessimistic person and once he had said that keeping those pessimistic thoughts was unhygienic. Pour it out then. Pour it all out in here…