2020 has been the worst year by all standards. It hits all my fatal weaknesses. Actually, the zoo of weakness has always been there, just like a ship full of small holes functioning at its very limit, in a fragile balanced state.
And 2020 smashed it.
I have always been a lonely person. Well, as a human, even for an introvert like me, social connections are needed. Honestly, I like to be among humans, even just for sitting with them quietly.
Thus, 2020 has become a nightmare. Locking down in my apartment alone for months, I have never been so emotionally destroyed. I started to rethink life and death and all those big crazy questions (actually, I did end up reading some excellent philosophy books, a silver lining, maybe). I went through a lot about myself, my life, the purpose of life — everything in my head. I read books and Internet articles, and I listened to podcasts, with the hope of finding some answers. This despairing solitude exposed all those weaknesses, which were crashing along with the fragile balance.
Why have I been lonely?
Continue reading “In 2020, I rediscovered myself”
上个月我们研究所这边搞起了一个募捐活动，让大家给智利一个叫做Batuco的贫民营地(Campamento Batuco) 里的人捐一些旧衣物。我没有衣物，就捐了一些现金。但是其实说来惭愧，我捐款的时候这个营地一无所知。心里想着负责募捐的人很可靠，于是就捐了。今天收到负责人邮件发来的反馈，附带了很多照片。然而，我看到这些照片之后内心却很难受。
看到照片里破破烂烂的木板纸板搭建的小屋，被雨水冲刷的泥泞的地面，还有小孩子们稚嫩的手捧着拿到的书本，他们吃的简朴的煮玉米煮土豆。再想到自己天天在家里有地暖，不担心吃喝，也不担心疫情，还可以点外卖。真心感觉很难过，感觉很心酸。刚刚在查关于这个营地的消息时还发现那里六月份才爆发了比较严重的 COVID-19 疫情。新闻里被采访的人还是乐观地说“虽然我们的很穷，但是我们心很大”。
The floating dust burned into the wall above the heater in February, the dancing water mist over the thin ice in March, the dew on the magnolia in April, the last burning birthday candle on the cake in May, the growl in the moist air in June, the lonely nightmare in an empty room in July. It seems that 365 days of a year have become a thing from the last century. All the alphabets scattered and dissipated on the surface the paper, and the last trace of scratches was folded in time after struggling for a couple of times in vain. The lotus root is broken, so are the clinging fibers. Nothing is connected anymore. Time, time chopped off all hope of going back, confining you to the thickest cocoon. If you do not grow out of a transformation, then die inside. Occasionally, in a dream, your voice, and his face, we invariably hummed the melody that we used to know.
Holding the broken clinging fibers that have been lost for more than 20 years, I gradually realized that they are eternal. While we, and the connections between us, are just a blink of an eye. We are still there, that time and space. Yet, we are no longer there.