all good things

we are all different. a scorpion is just as good as a cicada, as a rabbit is just as good as a snake, or there is actually no good and bad. if most of us work against our nature, the universe shall stop functioning. in my mom's culture, it is especially good being a monk. they see it as a merit.

but if we are all monks, then there's no love, no sex, no reproduction, no next generation. the world will cease to be. (maybe that's the termination of all sufferings in life. but is the sweetness not worthwhile?)

so there is this one thing i cannot understand.

we can't all be everything or nothing. each of us has to do our part, though we are different, no one is especially good as no one is especially bad.

tao is when all things are the same as all things are different.

it was said in to kill a mockingbird that we are only equal in the courtroom.

shall laws be by nature or by us?

i have to stop reading about serial killers... :/
(but if he loves her, how could he kill her?)

「只要我們在一起，好事就會發生。」

我曾經這樣寫過，
我相信我曾經有一刻這樣相信過。
當時的所有，我甚麼都沒有留低。

到了最後，最好和最不好的事情都發生了。
當我在幾萬呎的高空上穿過雲海的時候，
來自尼泊爾的女孩千叮萬囑我不可以自欺欺人。

於是，一個故事結束了，
本來的那個故事又繼續。

真空了的一年，
好像沒有活過一樣。
他也很少提起，
到底我們當時都怎麼了，
為何藕斷會絲連？

我幾乎就永遠都不再屬於他，
我們幾乎永遠都不再見面。

只差一點點，
就足以陰差陽錯一輩子。

sometimes it makes you feel like banging your head on the wall.

i know that's not exactly what people call sanity, but maybe it is sane to be insane. it is just a feeling that crawls up in you. yep. oh i dreamt of a snail, a big fat sticky one right next to my shoulder, i don't remember if i got it from my naps or the long sleep last night.

i constantly feel that life is unreal. it is all too far from me, whatever i have been through, or felt, they have become some floating pieces on the stream of memories. when i lie on my own bed, which was how i spend this sunday, i feel so distant from everything.

and my memory is not clear. it is all vague somehow. 

sometimes life is more like a painstaking read. you think you can just throw the book away, since there are still too many pages and the story is awfully long, and you have got to the part right before changes are about to take place, and you don't know if changes are good or bad.

but if you throw it away you know you will spend the rest of your life wondering about the ending.

i am scared of things certain and uncertain, particularly of the idea that most things about life are things you pick up on the way.

oh period please come.

因為我們會消失

因為走到最後，我們都不再存在；
因為我們現在擁有的所有，
終於都會化為烏有，
我們的身軀亦非不朽。

我努力去回想，
甚至連上星期發生的
事情的始末細節都忘記了。
我的記性很差，
我去過甚麼地方旅行，
看過甚麼，如果我不抽些時間拍張照片，
用片字隻語留個記認，
我再用心去追尋
都只找得一片空白。

我與他不見面一個月，
就連他的輪廓都覺得模糊，
這不是愛與不愛的問題，
我都不知道愛甚麼，
如果所有外在的價值都微不足道，
而回憶本身又非重點，
愛沒有原因，
細心數算後，
所有的落差，
都只是命運。

因為我們會消失，
所以我用文字
在回憶的黑洞
作垂死的掙扎，
我不是要把人生化作詩篇，
(如果可以也沒有甚麼不好。)
只是想要用以詞語建構的世界
成就一個永恆的可能。

只有我寫過的，才是我活過的。
也不是往往要用白紙黑字記下來，
但就是在腦海中也好，
也得把經歷化成文字，
閉上眼睛，像默唸一本書，
恐怕映像是無息的，
我是個用文字來思考的人。

故宮之外

幾天以前我又回到他的身邊。 

愈來愈熟悉的人，感覺愈來愈親，
萬一我們終究不能在一起，
他至少忘不了，
有過這樣的一個女孩子，
為他走很遠的路，
摔了狠狠的一次，
還是會帶著疤痕，
他走到那裡，她就到那裡。 

因為我們很相愛。

我常常都覺得我像負了整個世界一樣，
好像若果我是為了快樂而去見面，
就會是一種自甘墮落的奢侈。 

可是我也都只是這樣活一次，
沒有下一次了， 也不可能重新活過來，
而我也跟自己說定了，
就愛這一個人， 就讓這一個人愛我。 

愛情也是基本權利，
沒有愛情這世界又怎麼轉。
我才二十多歲，
但很多人都忘記了，
這是個往後一切都得在此下決定的年紀，
我不能在三十多歲才想到自己。

那天我們去了紫禁城，
他牽著我的手，
滿天都是蒲公英。