I just want to keep drinking your chicken soup.
The woman who made me lucky from birth.
I am competitive, I want the best, I want the first honor, I want the most outstanding ability, I want the most expensive things I can afford, so I would rather be secretly ridiculed by others as learning by rote. I'd rather force myself to "you want two articles and I'll give you six", and I'd rather keep working in silence knowing that it's unfair that the hourly salary will be reduced at the beginning of the week.
I really thought that as long as I worked hard, I could become a very good person one day.
in my third year of high school, I thought I could get into the school written on the oath wall;
when I typed more than a hundred thousand words, I thought I could write forever.
maybe I was just dazzled by a lot of blood. The handwriting on the banner heard so much show-off and praise that it became a "brave of that year". Many of the so-called hundreds of thousands of words are articles that I don't even want to read a second time, which confirms the sentence "only I know that what I write is rubbish."
around them, those I have to admit to envy, they take a higher salary than me, write better manuscripts than me, and have been to more places than me. Let me pull up the curtains and huddle under the quilt on dark and rainy nights and scold myself for doing nothing.
I am a loser.
I have achieved nothing.
I do not have any wishes come true.
the feeling of disparity is like you think that when you walk into a classroom, everyone will notice how you dress today, you will be nervous and pretend to be looking for a seat, but in fact everyone is sitting in their seat eating breakfast and playing with their cell phone. no one noticed you.
you think you are a shining individual, but
is actually just their "nobody".
I desperately want to be a better person than anyone else. I want to be the brightest star in the crowd, but in the real world, I remember in a trance that being an "ordinary person" may be the greatest success in the worldly sense.
desperately trying to win other people's attention, trying to cater to other people's eyeballs, and caring about their own image in the eyes of unimportant outsiders, she found that she could not wash her hair for three days by the side of the person whose heart I was not "nobody".
on a cold, cold night at the beginning of this year, I went to a cultural and creative park to do a small interview. My hands were shaking when I turned on the recording function of my mobile phone. The whole journey was about 15 minutes. After talking to the interviewees, it was nearly 10 o'clock in the evening. The hem of the long coat in the cold wind was violently raised, and the last bus did not "suddenly appear in the coffee shop around the corner."
the atmosphere of self-pity and self-moving suddenly hugged me. I kept feeling sorry for myself and dedicated to my work. In fact, there may be only two reasons for recalling it now: one is that I didn't wear an overcoat to look good at that time; second, I didn't have the money to take a taxi, and I was so disorganized that I couldn't reimburse me at that time.
when I got home downstairs, I looked up and saw that the light on the eighth floor was still on.
I remember clearly because the light was always turned off at 10:30, because my mother used to rest at 10 o'clock.
but it was 11:00 that night and the light was waiting for me.
as soon as I entered the door, I said to her, "you know, I just interviewed a director, I was so happy, and I realized my childhood wish. I didn't expect to have a chance to be a reporter." while nagging at the back of the kitchen while flipping through the phone to find out the recording of the interview to prove my excitement, "this director is very good. He started in college."
I haven't said what that director did. My mother put a bowl of soup in front of me. "stewed bamboo chicken with Codonopsis pilosula, drink it quickly while it is hot." When Gollum looked up to drink, she thought the woman in her forties was a little funny and a little angry. When I was so happy to share what I thought was a small achievement, she even asked me to drink chicken soup.
I'm obviously in my teens and twenties, and it's strange to supervise me to finish the soup and then eat the dregs.
if she says "you're weird" in a coquettish tone, she'll know what's on my mind.
I was thinking, "I've written so much chicken soup, but in the end I just want to eat your chicken soup."
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probably because we try our best, we can only be an ordinary person, but it is extremely difficult to "be an ordinary person", because ordinary us are "not ordinary" in the eyes of many people at the same time. We are the "old age support" in the eyes of our parents; we are the "late-night crying companions" in the eyes of our best friends and brothers. It is a "lucky encounter" in the eyes of our lifelong commitment lovers.
in their eyes, we are not "nobody".
you and I are both nobodies in the vast universe, but we are born with the duty to love and the right to be loved. Perhaps it is destined that most of us need to put those people who "leave a lamp for you and warm a bowl of soup for you" in a more important position when setting up flag for great dreams.
recently changed my avatar, which is a cartoon of line Bear and Connie Rabbit hugging each other. While I was watching the movie last night, I received an inexplicable Wechat.
"daughter, your avatar is very cute"
"hee hee (with an expression)"
. After another three or four hours
"your avatar is very Q"
"you have said it twice."
someone who can repeat unimportant things to you twice, you must not be her nobody.
it's interesting. She told me the same thing twice. Why? I would rather regard it as an interesting thing than admit the possible fact that she was bored enough to comment on my avatar twice because she had no one to play with her.. The second time she used "you" not "you", it hurt me again, because she simply thought that when she spoke on Wechat, she should address each other like a formal written language, so a lovely woman in her forties was my mother.
when we went to Yu Coffee that day, our disorganized royal photographer eel whale picked up my cell phone to photograph Deep-Fried Glutinous Rice Cake Stuffed with Bean Paste's production process. I conditional launch and said, "the password is 1201." the eel whale said with a bad smile on his face, "Yo, my boyfriend's birthday?" "stupid, it's my mom's birthday."
they say the boot password remembers who you loved, but my boot password tells them that I have always loved you.
I wrote "unwilling to be mediocre" on my Wechat account, and when I found that most of us try our best to be only one ordinary person in our lives, I changed it to "I tried to hold your hand on a windy day". When I found that maybe the winter wind in my life was too cold and I needed to patiently brew a glass of spring rice wine, I changed it to "I have seen a Milky way running through the sky". In fact, you ask me what this sentence means, I do not know, in fact, I have not seen it, this sentence is moved at a glance.
because there are two people standing in front of the Milky way in front of my eyes.
I don't know who it is, but I just think the scene is very warm, just like you are with me.
"I yearn for heaven and am passing through the world."