Sleep
I often wonder what the consequences of a failed life are, at least in terms of being able to remain calm and react instinctively to the unknown. Should I admit I'm in this situation? A solitary struggle, an endless battle, only to end up exhausted and uneasy. Gazing at the moonlight scattered outside the window, I can't help but wonder: if everything is predetermined, then what is the meaning of life? The only thing I can believe in is that somewhere beyond Earth, there exists a stress-free environment that suits me. Although the phrase "escaping the world" seems incredibly naive and ridiculous now, usually only found in popular science articles, considering the torment we endure today, who wouldn't think that way?
The night was quieter than ever, save for the sounds of breathing and the soft sizzling of foam. A cup of coffee stood out starkly against the wooden table piled high with books of all shapes and sizes. I sat quietly, trying my best not to disturb those lost in sleep. To stay awake, I splashed cold water on my face every ten minutes or so, managing to stay awake until two in the morning. When I realized my hands were completely too weak, I repeatedly told myself, "Maybe I should just call it a day." When people are overly tired, their actions often precede their thoughts. I slumped over the table, reflecting on my recent "performance"—were there any shortcomings, or had I exceeded my family's budget? Actually, I had long anticipated my performance would be unsatisfactory, and I had been trying to find reasons to justify it, but one by one, those reasons crumbled, and I lost the opportunity to argue. I closed my eyes, savoring the lingering warmth of the coffee, and involuntarily shivered. The chill of winter had crept in unnoticed. I stood up abruptly, grabbed a coat, and draped it over myself. Then I glanced at the unfinished tasks on the table. Various factors compelled me to halt my busy work. At this moment, I had no choice but to follow my own will. Yet, the thought of tomorrow's schedule filled me with unease. In the past, I would have made the choice easily, but now, sleep was my only option.
I've had many dreams. In them, things become bizarre and incongruous, even detached from common sense and understanding. I don't intentionally avoid dreams because of their fictional nature; frankly, I enjoy dreaming. Whether I'm doing childish things or baffling things in my dreams, they are things I could never experience in the real world. Compared to harsh reality, dreams offer complete freedom. There, there is no class conflict, no competition or oppression; everywhere is peaceful and harmonious. Back in reality, staring at the dim walls and listening to the howling wind outside the window, a surge of emotion welled up inside me: "I can't take it anymore!" I hadn't expected to make such a commotion, disturbing my sleeping father. He stormed into the room, yelling, "What are you doing in bed so late?" "N-nothing... I'll go to sleep soon," I replied helplessly. If it were someone else, perhaps I would have had the chance to confide my misfortunes to them. But my own father—a man who has always had high expectations for me—is someone I cannot persuade with words unless I study hard until he is satisfied. Watching my father leave, I secretly got up, closed the door, and hid in the bathroom, sobbing for no apparent reason. Immediately, various reproachful voices flooded my mind: "You haven't made any progress in so long, have you been slacking off?" "Look how much progress others have made, who's still stuck in the same place like you?" "Maybe you should just die."
I realized that, without my knowledge, I had already suffered so much doubt and abuse. No one knew the truth, and I could only endure it myself. I had long anticipated that one day I would not be able to bear it anymore.
Every corner of the world reflects people's yearning for a better life, a yearning predicated on labor, with no room for shirking responsibility. Various rules have created a competitive world where there is no true freedom, only a distinction between rich and poor, and survival of the fittest. I firmly believe that one day people will become dissatisfied with the rules of this world and will begin to break free from the constraints of family, just as they realize: fate is unfair.
Insomnia is common, but I never imagined it would happen when I most needed to sleep. The only thing I could do was empty my mind, try not to think about anything; some things can't be changed by imagination. Later, I probably fell asleep… “Hey! Are you awake?” A friendly voice startled me. Strangely, I didn't seem to be awake. A white light quietly appeared in the pitch-black surroundings, and deep within the white light was a sincere, undisguised greeting. I tried again to reveal my true feelings; “Can you take me away?” “Then, why do you want to leave?”
Yes, why is that? I always stick to my own ideas and needs, but in the end, no one understands me. Maybe the stranger in front of me will deny my views just like everyone else. "Speak your true thoughts and don't care what others say."
His words completely overturned my preconceived notions of the law, and I finally mustered the courage to express my true feelings: "I'm fed up with the grueling work, fed up with the criticism from others, fed up with all the rules of this world. My efforts stem from..."
They come from a place where no one values them; all they want is profit and honor. To survive in this world, people will stop at nothing to gain benefits… How hypocritical! I don't care if you understand or not, I won't stay in this world anymore. You can mock me for being a half-baked failure, or whatever, after all, I was never someone worthy of high expectations.” “So, are you willing to come with me?” “Whatever you want, as long as I can leave this place.” I reached out, trying to grasp that dazzling white light as much as possible. Suddenly, from the depths of that boundless white light, a hand grabbed my wrist and carried me to that endless, unknown world. Perhaps this is my only destination.
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