As mud, I have a Bai Lianhua in my heart.

When I was a child, I wrote with a pencil. As long as one word is not satisfactory, I will erase the whole line and rewrite it. Erasers must be soft and easy to use. You can't leave any trace after wiping, so you can continue to write on it with peace of mind, or you will cry. This is my psychology since I was very young. I think as long as there is a little stain, the whole thing is dirty. I don't know where it came from, but there is always a voice reminding me not to tolerate even the smallest flaw, which is an unforgivable shame.

Later, I started writing with a pen, and it developed into a destructive notebook. The newly bought notebook is exquisite, white and neat, but I often hate it when I can't write a page. Because my notes are either misspelled or crooked. I will tear up that page without hesitation. But when I tore up that page, the notebook became an incomplete waste for me. I blame myself, it was my carelessness that ruined it, and it was my imperfection that polluted it. But I will not pity it, and I will abandon it without hesitation.

Some people say that there is nothing wrong with such self-demands. Yes, in a way, there may be some benefits. Judging from my handwriting, at least my handwriting is good. It should be good, quite a few people say so. To this end, I served as a propaganda Committee member for a long time when I was a student, and was responsible for the class blackboard newspaper. When I publish the blackboard newspaper, although I will have that desire, I will not destroy it willfully, because I didn't do it alone, and there are other students' efforts. The most important thing is that I don't want others to know my thoughts. Although I can't tell whether this kind of psychology is normal or not, I don't think it has anything to do with others.

Only once did I clean the first issue of the blackboard newspaper because some people said it looked dirty and was my good friend at that time. I have forgotten how I finally compiled this blackboard newspaper. All I remember is that I was so angry that I wanted to ruin everything. It turns out that it is worthless and only suitable for destruction. I've been depressed about this for a long time. Although I still talked and laughed with that friend, I was always anxious when I was alone. It turns out that I am so poor in the eyes of others. My friends think I am poor. What will others think of me?

Later, my life began to muddle along. Long-term efforts, long-term depression and long-term dissatisfaction made me very tired and didn't want to force myself any more. I will still tear up the broken words, but only tear them up. Rewriting was too tired and I gave up.

I suddenly feel that there is nothing wrong with this. I'm not a printing machine. How can I write every word neatly and correctly? I suddenly put down my shackles, and then I didn't just write, eat, sleep, walk and talk. Life is like a reservoir that opens its floodgates and flows freely. I don't want every little makes a mickle, no matter when the dry season comes. I don't want a planned road, whether it flows to the sea or the desert. I live a very leisurely life, and I begin to look down on those who pretend to live by the rules. I think they are just poor people who pretend to be cute and fawn on others, trying to suppress their idiots in order to get praise from their elders and others.

I want to live for myself. How I live is my own business. My imperfection is my own business. I am ugly, I am fat, I am ignorant, and I am corrupt. This is my own business. I didn't commit a crime for it, so I don't have to blame myself for the pain. I even want to punish others with this self. If you think I am ugly and fat and make you look disgusting, then I will disgust you; You think I am ignorant and depraved, which makes you anxious and sad. Well, I'll make you anxious and sad. Anyway, I am always imperfect, ugly, fat and poor. It makes no difference to others, but it is a world of difference to me, just like swimming the 5000-meter butterfly and taking a bath in the pool.

In the meantime, you must think I'm a rebellious bottom animal, right Actually, it's not. Such intense feelings are really just feelings. In the eyes of my parents and teachers, I am still a good girl, but I am a little lazy, not as good as before. I was shocked when I learned this fact. I thought I had been scolding myself, but I didn't expect that I just took a peek in the shadows. There is a light of contempt in my eyes, but I only dare to show it when I turn around; I resist all rules and orders, but I only dare to swear and say no at night when no one is around. After my predecessors, I kept changing my personality day and night. In front of people, I am happy, generous and kind; After being alone, I feel lonely and inferior, depressed and desolate; During the day, I really appreciate respect and self-motivation; At night, gnash your teeth, despise abuse and give up on yourself.

Every empty night, I feel that people come and go during the day, like an inescapable net, dragging me to endless hell; And at dawn every day, I feel dirty and filthy when I see my relatives and friends. Living like this repeatedly every day is like tying a balloon full of water to your back, flying with a group of people wearing hydrogen balloons, pretending that we are a group and flying easily and happily together in the sky.

In this way, I live like a broken sack, but I can't have it at ease. Sometimes, I really want to mend it, only to find that even if all the loopholes are mended, it is just a patched broken sack.

Someone told me that even if it is a broken sack, your life is your life, and whether you ignore it or face it squarely, it will not change. Then face it squarely and fill it with colorful cloth to make colorful bags. What a wonderful idea, if I can forget it, it is essentially just a broken sack.

Now, I hope I can erase my old life, destroy it, and then be born again, just like erasing that line. Imperfection is a flaw, and flaw is a sin. Until now, 30 years later, I realized that it was impossible for me to escape the eyes of others, let alone my own scrutiny. The strange eyes of passers-by, the worried eyes of friends, the worried eyes of confidants, the eyes of self-reproach of relatives, and the eyes of self-regret cannot be avoided, nor can they be avoided with peace of mind.

Hello, you are beautiful, you are excellent, so you have to bear the expectations and demands of others; If you are bad, ugly and depraved, you have to bear the accusations and worries of others.

If, I can delete it and restart it ... but life is not a computer game, and logout is the end.

I dare not cancel my life now, but I don't know how long I can hold on.

I'm just a handful of dirty mud. Why give me a seed to open a Bai Lianhua that doesn't belong to me?