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墨書 Inktalez
On July 18th,
That day, it seems like something important,
I just forgot a long time ago.
In October of the twenty-second year...
In her eyes, I'm just a strange person coming to find her.
My right eye still hurts.
Actually, I dreamt of you, it seems.
In the dream, it's as if we resolved some misunderstanding, and you finally agreed to listen to me.
You're still speaking very softly. And I clumsily say, "Can you speak a little louder? I didn't hear clearly." So you lean lightly against me, whispering as if you were nestled.
Everyone behind us is looking at us, even I find it unbelievable.
Um, what exactly did you say?
I'm starting to forget your face, but it was indeed so gentle.
They say I'm crazy, living in my imagination, fantasizing about a non-existent reality.
People live by their feelings, don't they?
I have met a very beautiful girl, but she's quite ordinary.
I don't feel anything, quite ordinary.
But I won't come looking for you, it's impossible. If there's something that can only be obtained by kneeling down and crying, then when you kneel down and cry, you can't come back. Never, never.
I know you're not coming back, but I still miss you. I don't understand what I'm thinking either. It's just that your shadow often seems to appear and disappear in front of my eyes.
Can you please leave?
I've always liked rabbits, but I actually like you.
You are still happy and cheerful as usual, but I am feeling a little sad. Calling you "sister" or anything else, those requests don't matter to you anymore. When you think about it again, do you feel disgusted? I know your expectations and hopes, those fantasies, because I have seen them too. But having disappointed them, I have no right to say anything. A pardoned criminal has no reason to add another dish. Mom doesn't like it, and neither does Dad. Unimportant things, can't be forgotten.
I don't want to pretend, about you. I always feel very sad.
I'm struggling with whether to draw a line, but I'm still afraid when I pick it up. Thinking positively, I won't need to see anyone for the whole summer.
I enjoy flipping through the photo album with you; you are so young. In comparison, you are so small, just a little one, in my arms as I listen to you talk about those pictures. The midsummer breeze brings a suitable slumber, and the dazzling light of the golden afternoon is hazy. These moments are worth it, not just to be remembered. We made a promise to finish the book.
And then what?
What else can I do? What more can I accomplish? My life is not just about you, which makes the sadness so complicated. That night, those pills were thrown up like a turbulent sea.
"I'm going to die. Find you and say this to you. Do I expect you to have any reaction? How can I be so selfish."
I haven't lived through this winter, maybe I'll rot in the upcoming summer.
Sorry, I just wanted someone to accompany me, okay?
But fortunately, I don't have to apologize for the sadness I brought to you.
You don't care.
I don't like the sun, and I forget how to live. I always feel deprived of strength in the crowd, and I fear those eyes that scan up and down. The noise of the electric drill next door is no longer noisy, but the more disturbing it is, the more I feel trapped. People only believe in what they believe in, and so-called understanding others is just putting meaningless comments on their own perspectives. Everyone is a grave robber, prying open other people's tombs, gnawing at the bones, and filling their own insatiable furnace.
Stay away from me, Mr. Ghoul.
Those who seek the truth are forever chasing the shadow of lies. Catching a thief who steals, is that the truth? Catching a thief who kills, is that the truth? However, one meaningless conclusion after another in the judicial system is just a waste of time. Complicated cases are forced to be dealt with due to the constraints of society. What is the essence of life, and is it important? What do I care about, and what do I really want? It doesn't matter, none of this matters. The rotten story can finally be said to not matter.
As death approached, my heart felt joyful again. The smell of pork trotters in the air, so soft and tender. Actually, I wanted to say that your voice sounds so fake, I don't remember it at all. Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalala~ (End of Part Two)
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