Though I keep reminding myself, I always quietly forget. What a wondrous thing time is. Traversing the four corners and the heavens and earth
In the haze of illusion, I feel you once again — that is a childhood memory, blurred and hard to recall clearly anymore.
I miss the muddy roads of childhood, the fresh green scent of the trees along the way, and that park I had to pass through every day, packed on weekends with brothers and sisters at play. I was once caught off guard there and pushed down the tall slide. In my panic, a full three-hundred-sixty-degree spin — as if by divine aid, I landed safely yet was utterly bewildered. Why push me down? A prank, or something more deliberate? Perhaps it was just an accident that froze the instigator stiff. But I seized the opening and yanked hard at that person’s collar. No resistance, no crying. I figured we were even. Years later, thinking back, I feel terribly sorry.
I miss the old iron shed downstairs — our secret base back in elementary school. That rundown iron shed became our adventure game. We added a chimney and steps inside, and when we were tired of playing, we’d cook up something tasty. Of course, we ran into another bunch of mischievous little rascals too. We fought hard over that turf. And it was around that time that drawing terrifying skull pictures became my greatest passion. Think you can scare me off? Not a chance. Naive ideas are often quite amusing. In the end the shed’s owner showed up at the “base,” tidying and packing up, probably getting ready to leave. The owner likely knew that our marks of time were in there too.
I miss the not-so-big simulated city, with its planes, cannons, warships, and weapons. I had so many friends back then. I made lots of models out of foam and got lost with my companions in a virtual world of illusion. You were the defense minister living in seclusion in the mountains; he was a dashing high-ranking sailor. My dwelling was very mysterious, hidden deep in a vast primeval forest. Magic was nothing special — put plainly, it was just high technology. We soared through the sky and burrowed into the earth, plucking the moon from the ninth heaven, catching turtles in the five oceans, entertaining ourselves and thoroughly pleased with it. I remember a “Mushroom Mall” with outrageously high prices. Two naughty fellows slapped seals on every single one of its storefronts. A whole afternoon gone, never tiring of it.
Childhood ideas were fun and thrilling, but all of it is far away now. I feel some reluctance to let go, yet there’s no need to live it all again.
Then I got sick again, and couldn’t get out of bed. So during the vibrant, youthful days of middle school, I spent almost all of it at home. From then on I had fewer and fewer friends, and so more and more personal time to stay calm. With nothing to do but think — think about the world, think about life, think about myself. On cold, lonely afternoons, music outside the window would often play. Sunshine always comes after wind and rain; misfortune is what good fortune leans upon. Occasionally I’d go back to school for exams and could feel countless pairs of envious, jealous, and resentful eyes. Later still, I started going online at home, watching Flash, playing games. The colorful world of the internet drew me in deeply. Sitting before the computer, only then did I find the drive for life — as if I was born for this, so in tune. The fire of life was lit again, giving me wisdom and courage. I found my place, and I will walk together with the internet. Middle school ended quickly, leaving regret and remembrance.
Carrying my ideals about the internet, I stepped into a brand-new campus, full of delight, ready to meet brilliant senior and fellow students. Yet reality and ideals often differ as much as heaven and earth. A chaotic school culture — not illegal, but still a mess. How many people actually studied with real interest? Disappointment after disappointment struck. It turned out most people couldn’t be trusted, that the general run of them were garbage. Clubs, teachers — all bullshit. Who could solve my problems? Who was willing to talk craft with me? More and more suffocated. In the end, everything comes down to yourself. If others don’t work hard, that’s nothing to do with me.
Anger and helplessness were the brands my school years left on me. Thinking back now, I’m truly sorry — what meaning did my inner complaints have? Each has their own path, each their own fate. I’ll be free and easy, roaming the heavens and earth. To everyone who’s left the school gates, I wish you all the best.
Twenty years have hurried by. Student days are in the past. Life moves forward; the dream doesn’t die. Let the past be the past — no need to care. The heavens and earth stretch on, I am alone, and through ten thousand rivers and a thousand mountains I walk on my own.
What a mysterious thing time is. Everything can be wiped out by time, discarded by it. Later I understood: the me of the past has died. A new me is reborn and returns. I set down the memories of the past, then pick them up again. They are the witness and the mark that I once lived.
But I can no longer draw the line between reality and the virtual. A year passes like a day, detached from time, never noticing the silent flow of years. Yesterday is already gone. The future is murky and uncertain. This moment vanishes in an instant. The most beautiful flower blooms in the deepest, most knowing ground.
Though I keep reminding myself, I always quietly forget. What a wondrous thing time is. Traversing the four corners and the heavens and earth — and we, all of us, are insignificant, nothing more.
- By Mousebomb @ 09.07.27