Where does "I'm not innocent and I'm not guilty" come from

Those who always like to make irresponsible remarks about others in front of me and are very interested in other people's privacy, I believe that one day, they will also form gangs with others to talk about me. This has nothing to do with their emotional bias or the core of their position. It is purely their interests and expertise. They are good at adjusting the atmosphere with some seasonings. They want to be intimate with others and behave enthusiastically and righteously, as if they are just ignorant of what is good and what is good. People will not appreciate it.

I have never been willing to cause trouble in my life, and if trouble comes, I will avoid it. I don’t want to make myself look aggrieved. Maybe I’m evil, maybe I’m lazy, maybe I’m a coward. Anyway, I don’t like to make noise after trouble. I am sad and angry but tolerant. I don’t need anyone to vent my anger on my behalf, and I can’t even stand up for others. I am afraid of interacting with others to the point of honor, disgrace and passion. I am afraid of pretending to be close to each other because of the same hatred.

The ultimate form of loneliness is not lifelessness, but endless laughter, endless mumbling, and being distracted by the endless noise of self-talk.

I hope that from now on I will have a clear mind and not be weird and have ringworm. This is part of my plan. I know that I could burn out at any moment. I have resisted making this plan all my life. I said to myself: It's too early, it's too early. So now, it's still too early. All my life I have been dreaming of this final moment, of identifying it, drawing the lines, finding the sum before everything is lost.

Life always borrows money from us but never returns it. Only in death can the stork and the tree not be of the same surname.

I don’t love those boring and dehydrated people who promote good deeds all day long and are so paralyzed by virtue that their tastes are paralyzed. I love women who are sincere to the point of nakedness, sexy to the point of dampness to moldiness, and organs as evil as pure. There is an irritating gas that hits your nose. You know, it is a completely lustful view of love.

I know in my heart that nothing will happen, no change will occur, no matter what happens, it will never come. This is a non-existent fear, a non-existent terror, a non-life Uneasiness is the cry of all my cells facing the inner creatures that are dividing, dispersing and turning into powder. It is a kind of fear of the triviality and insignificance that is degrading. It is a fear of violence within myself and of the violence that threatens me from without.

You and I are experiencing a love in which you are not trying your best and I am not helping.

It was a heavy rainy day and there were many mosquitoes. I kept silent to it, as if waiting for a major event - its recovery or death. It still had diarrhea, vomiting, convulsions, and biting my fingers. If sadness is quiet anger, powerlessness is a tired kindness. Its rough and painful limbs scratched the delicate skin and tender flesh, making my patience bleed. And rain, starting from the forest, passing through the lights of the mountains, watering germs and life, will eventually settle on the sea.

In order to keep my life tidy, I cleared out a lot of people.

I'm sure I was stimulated, not hurt. If you say stimulation is a kind of harm, then I think it is inappropriate. Injury is a kind of meticulous, pure mental and corporal punishment, and stimulation is a perverted and dirty fanaticism that is full of loopholes. I was once stimulated to the point of jumping around and even came up with such bad ideas as to live a decent life.

Because his temperament is too tough and not flexible, he is both stubborn and fragile.

Care is like joining in the fun and making noise, praise is full of jealousy and sarcasm, and comfort is a general term for making sarcastic remarks and pitying you. You live in a world filled with hatred and evil. If God's education fails, rewards and punishments cease to exist, and humans crawl everywhere, we will spit on the faces of the mountains we once sung. Who wouldn't blush that they still have a soul? Who can deny that he is a born slut and a villain?

If you have the answer to some things in your own mind, don’t bother others to answer it. Some people don't want to see clearly, but there is no better way than seeing clearly.

If I were not alone, without my loneliness, I would not be able to survive. I am not that talkative, I live as if no one else is around me, I sneer at the tricks of delivering happiness that people around me talk about, and I am not afraid of missing anyone, so I look selfish, cold, fanatical, extreme, unlucky, and useless. margin.

My tragedy is that everything is abandoned halfway, and there is no clear conclusion to any relationship. All operations are suspended once they begin.

All action is exhausted prematurely. All the whims sprouted hastily in the aphrodisiac blush, the fluffy marijuana, and the dim poppy. All enthusiasm for life is like the chills caused by a fever, and the chills cause a layer of goosebumps in a nightmare.

The long silence between us exploded, and the smell of gunpowder and sulfur was suffocating. At any time, our friction could cause a fire and burn both of us to pieces.

When you don’t love me, I can’t understand you. I have put in a lot of effort to do this. Wherever I go deep into you, I build a big wall of humanity. Later, I left you, on that day, on the windy and rainy national highway, the ancient mountains, the white apes and the monks. The lightning is like the blue blood vessels on my eyelids. I seem to be slowly bowing to everything in the heavy rain. I no longer love you. At this moment, I finally see everything about you.

I have gradually become accustomed to burying all my feelings deeply in my heart, and to treating other people's opinions, concerns, help and even helping hands as obstacles and annoyances. I have developed a habit of never telling others what is on my mind and never participating in other people's conversations. This habit made me lack self-confidence, stiffened my voice, and made it difficult for me to speak seriously to others. In the long run, all that is left is teasing others and bitter self-deprecation.

If one day, I don’t want to tell you what I did, nor do I want to hear from your mouth how you spent your time without me, I will no longer try to tell you from silence. Save yourself, no longer force yourself to shout, have fits or even insults. I am willing to let us drown quietly in this overwhelming silence. You and I are really finished.

There are many who comfort you silently, but too few who stand up and say a word for you.

When your tears run dry, your life will either be one of getting sick or laughing out loud.

My yearning has become erratic because it has not been satisfied, turning my coquettish behavior into flattery, anger, irritability or crying.

You told me a lot, but not what I wanted to hear. It's itchy, maybe the itching pain is also caused by the over-sensitivity of my nerves. If you don't look at me, I actually don't mind my ugliness. Just like you don't hint to me that you owe me too much, I don't know what I have paid for you. I just want to live a life that is selfless, surging, free and distant, and I don’t want to regret or get to know anyone, and slowly grow up and down.

They were used to my harmless ramblings, as they were to my constant confusion and morbid excitement. I just have a few extra ounces of fat or a missing molar in the world. No one pays attention to me, no one cares about me, because I am using the two scissors of "capriciousness" and "unexpectedness" to untie the knots one by one. The umbilical cord of suffering that connects them. Little by little, nothing remained but a bare shell and a host of ridiculous eccentricities.

If I could love you less, I would look more beautiful in your heart. Because of this, I won't be angry or have unreasonable emotions, and then come to you to apologize, looking like a spineless loser. At least, I can be a normal person who doesn't speak a word. I won't reveal my inner thoughts as soon as I open my mouth. I will expose the lack of security in my heart and let the tears in my eyes retort.

When I first noticed the coldness and darkness deep in my heart, I was really frightened and excited at the same time. I peeked at the gurgling guilt and showed nondescript kindness under the beam of morality. I have done many bad things to prove that I am a good person. I often ridicule those bad habits that naturally awaken, the pessimism that does not require cultivation, the capricious indulgence or abstinence, and the countless unkillable selves.

I can't escape affectation. When I try to stay true, I glimpse my desire to resist and welcome, my evasive vanity.

You tickle my desire, and I must cut off a section of your bloody life to relieve my desire.

Sometimes I want to reorganize my life. Life or death will be more straightforward, and it will never be as hesitant as now. If I were given a chance to die in a promising and honorable way now, I might not be willing, or to be honest, I wouldn't be willing at all. I would rather survive without saying a word, be weak when there is no wind, and be strong when there is a storm. Waiting for old age, waiting for natural death, or waiting for a once and for all, one-and-done event.

My inferiority complex is not the inferiority complex that comes from comparing myself to others, but the inferiority complex that comes from being born with incompetence, laziness and ignorance.

So even if I hate myself, it doesn't stop me from showing disdain for my fellow humans.

There were a few days when I lived peacefully, without any temper or even personality. My desire for expression is extremely weak. Sometimes I sleep with thunderstorms in the early morning, and sometimes I sleep with lotus roots and lotus flowers in the sunset. In the awkward timetable, everything was never arranged. My body and soul began to become deaf and mute, killing each other and being disrespectful to each other. In the final confusion, in the stalemate of nature protection, only the flamingo flew across the white lotus pond, disturbing the tranquility and harming the sound.

I know that it was my indifference that attracted you in the first place, but I still scared you away with my unstoppable enthusiasm.

Whether I am going north or south, I will lead you. In the early morning, new neighbors lived in my straw hat, grasshoppers and my hair loss together. Nowadays, whether you have the broad private freedom of a bachelor; or whether you live with a fixed female companion and live in a narrow and unchanging trivial matter, it is fatal to me. I miss our oatmeal and beer, our unintentional pleasures in the vineyards and beech groves, our faces in the sun, our evenings chewing rose petals.

I never knew what to do next, I just stayed like this, sometimes full of energy, most of the time dying. I don't feel present, I can withdraw at any time, I am not that important. Even if he dies, it is just the heart-wrenching cry of a few close relatives, the symbolic cry of a few loved ones, and the self-pity cry of a few strangers who share the same disease. They will say what will I do if you leave. They weren't crying for me, they were crying for themselves.

Every time I say "I'm fine", I'm trying to save myself. I won't tell you the whole story because I don't want to hear you saying "why bother" when I'm in so much pain, and I don't believe you can help me. If you ask, if I answer, it will just be another bystander. When you are more curious than caring, you will even laugh at me. So don't ask me, I'm not the answer, I'm just a bunch of questions.

I thought there would be no wounds when I left here, but I forgot that I was both the blade and the flesh.

He told me: Don’t worry, the doctor said it will be fine. I don't know why I feel a little disappointed and sad. He also said that you will like it here, it is warm and nourishing for the lungs. After May, the sea will smell of magnolia flowers. In the evening, the mountains are separated by the sun and moon, and the canyon is filled with the sound of birds flapping their wings. And I worry that there is something unknown lurking in the comfort, and the familiar life I am accustomed to is never kind. I cried to release my fear this time and not to cry again in the future.

If you want to wait to see my joke, then I will make you laugh to death. You'd better not be too happy to be sad.

After I got my first medical records in 2009, I quit drinking on and off. Later, due to many physical and mental problems, I followed the doctor's instructions and family expectations, accepted drugs, became dependent on them, and had to quit when I became addicted to them. I quit smoking, drinking, drugs, ambition, and love, and more to come. The intense and turbulent life was gradually replaced by the ordinary things that were boring, and there was not even a ghost. What I laugh at is that there is nothing in this world that is not harmful to the body.

I also thought that I would not struggle and live a different life from now on, where I would be at the mercy of others. It didn’t matter whether I was stupid or clever, good or bad. All the faces don’t have to excite me, and all the backs don’t have to depress me. No one is special. In the Piazza San Marco with tens of millions of people, the nervous you and me outside the Duke's Palace, the stench of the night after long-term insomnia, the ordinary is nothing more than the green shade in the puddles, and the faint glow of the lentil grass lamp. Only the silent air obeyed my taciturn will to lie down and rest.

Leaving because of despair? no. He was in an embarrassing situation and wanted to save face. It’s because we have too many hopes and no opportunities, yet we don’t want to give up, so we want to keep them all but can’t bear to share. I have never been so tired, God neither shows mercy nor kills me, He just punishes me by having to live. I wandered under the scorching sun with no source of water, anxiously waiting for the last sharpshooter to pass his fate.

Leaving permanently is a continuation of the first decision to leave. When I first had this idea, every subsequent quarrel, reconciliation, treatment of me favorably, contempt of me, they all pushed me step by step into the path of no one. I am in the hot southwest of China, with unknown longitude and latitude, but my eyes are clear and my mind is clear. Beyond the blue sea, there are winding snow-capped mountains and thousands of hectares of wild fields. It was an unkind encounter for me. From now on, you don’t know where I am, alive or dead, and you will not be forgiven. Because you are an ordinary person, you are right. It's me who's abnormal, I'm the one who's wrong.

Although I am nostalgic and unable to extricate myself, it still cannot stop me from severing contact with everything in the past.

What I love is the lonely thoughts when I am alone, not the lively, extravagant, and contentious social interactions. There is nothing worse than forcing myself to experience these.

Because he has too much time to take care of himself, he is ruthless and unjust.

Please take care of your sympathy and don't let it hurt a dignified heart that is dying but still wants to die.

The farewell has been delayed again and again, and it has been two or three years since I said goodbye for the first time. No matter how reluctant you are to leave or have nowhere to go, I am still not far from you. Talking and laughing day and night, you live in the 93rd department of Paris, you are a man of the tower, you are the grotesque love song of Dadaism. But I am in the black area and the Chinese area. Although things have changed but they remain the same, things have not changed but they are not as good as before. He spent his days growing melons and cooking beans, clipping newspapers and arranging flowers. He suffered from tuberculosis and several high fevers, but he was fine and healthy.

Love? I have no idea. After you, I also said "I love you" to several people. They were my lovers. When they please me, I can't help but say "I love you", but this still can't avoid my aversion to love. . I am now standing on the top of the mountain, white birds are flying into the forest, and the setting sun is embellished with all the green. Someone once came after you left, and the present has become the same again. I am still the same as before, still cold and indifferent, unable to use gentleness, and too cruel.

I often think about what kind of person I am, but later I feel that I am not a person. I do not meet the standards set by man for what is good, noble, and meaningful. However, I gain happiness through immorality, survive by cunning and cheating, confront fear by telling lies, and survive by being shameless. I have broken promises, I lack compassion, I love half-heartedly, I live recklessly, and I have no more emotions than a loyal dog.

I seemed to be falling to death in a dream, surrounded by water, and the choking breath made the fish eyes widen. Wild flowers bloomed all over the mountains. Another me and many, many butterflies walked around the dark door lintel and passed through the whale-blue tundra. We saw mammoths and large horned deer skeletons, which were murdered ten thousand years ago in Asia and Europe. On the mainland, there is natural selection. Breaking out of death is still survival. When human beings are sent to a museum, they are all resurrected in the eyes of God.

I once had a lot, but then I gave them up. I think some things are better off without them. What you persuaded me to pursue was exactly what I had so hard to get rid of. It struck me that I had lived an incredible life, a life where a pair of shoes of the same size did not fit every foot. I think I am a person who wants to walk through the years barefoot. No matter how bright the stars are in the past, it is better to look at the moon alone.

Don’t ask me about things that have nothing to do with me, and don’t ask me about things that have nothing to do with you.

When talking about the past, I always express everything with silence, swearing or laughing.

Life has no story, it is just one joke after another. Now, all my happiness comes from laughing at myself for the pain I've experienced. I can't help but laugh often. Even when I am walking alone, sending letters, or eating, I will laugh as if no one else is watching.

Even if you despise that kind of person, it will not stop me from becoming that kind of person. When I discovered that the core issue of my anxiety was: fear of wasting time. I have already decided that I will spend the rest of my life in a daze. This is not an action of life, but a state of life. I mean, for example, stupid eating, stupid semantics, stupid love...

I have not encountered anything, nor have I experienced anyone. I just passed by them. The funny thing is that I seemed to be an ominous person with hidden murderous intentions. All the feelings I passed by always ended up in ruins. Maybe my blessings can only be used to offset the self-inflicted disasters, and I don’t know if it is enough. Anyway, after so many years of going up and down like this, I am still living just fine.

"One moment I felt that I had no way to go, and the other moment I felt in a dilemma. When I fell down, life lifted me up. Once I regained my confidence, it immediately sarcastically belittled me. It made me become I am arrogant and have low self-esteem. I laugh at those who work hard and show disdain for those who are lazy and smart. Do you think there is something wrong with my life? "No, that's how life is." , Congratulations on finally entering it."

I don't envy people who live well, I only envy those who die when they want.

The rainy night is extremely deep and quiet, the white river in Asakusa, the tungsten silk tavern, and the plain porcelain are all pure, with only raindrops remaining, and the thunder disappears into the celestial body. It is difficult to tighten up at the end of April. I want to be restrained but want to be wild. When the whole incident was soaked in Qingmei Yang's milk, the milk smelled acidic and developed into a face without facial features, speaking in mountain ventriloquism.

Do you trust me? Let me state my views on love. Amidst the disappointment that cools your throat, you will always be the charming, smiling, silent person.

Even if I can no longer speak, you have no right to speak for me.

I want you, and I want your life. I love you, and I will love your body and soul. In the same way, I also hope that you will kill me and give me the most ugly life and the most rippling blood.

What I feel is a huge discouragement, an unbearable loneliness, a permanent fear of a vague misfortune, a complete distrust of my own strength, and a complete lack of desire. , an impossibility of seeking any diversion at will. I kept asking myself: What’s the use of this? What's the use? This is the spirit of true melancholy. ——Baudelaire

I hope that when I pass away, there will be no important relatives, no lovers, no heirs, no manuscripts or paintings left behind, and I will come unprepared. , leave cleanly.

Longing for a peaceful life, crossing the plains, forests, and the Red Sea, the gods slept and woke up in the Olympus Mountains. At the foot of the mountain, they toasted in unison, and in the dusk land, wild swans flew over and the grass grew. Vibrate with the stream. I seem to be a hundred years old. My hair and teeth have all fallen out and will no longer grow. I don’t need to wear an animal skin flower crown. I have a few pairs of tearful bull’s eyes, staring at the naked peace and the empty peace.

I never thought that one day I would do this to you, and I believe you never thought that I would actually sneer at your pleading, and I would spit out "you deserve it" when you are being calculated. Two words for you. When you look at me longingly, will you remember that I once looked at you so helplessly? Have you ever realized how hard it is to let go of your pride when you plead hard? Pick up your fallen self-esteem, don't throw it in front of me like garbage.

I stayed in a room with sandwich biscuits, hazelnuts, pine nuts, and peanuts. Sit down and light a cigarette, relax your nervous frame, and when it is about to dissipate, take off all your clothes, let your pores breathe quietly, and smell the aroma. The daylilies blooming freely crossed my shame and wrapped around my limbs and hair and skin. Lust, kneeling down in the gentle and stubborn erotic poetry. Surrendered bad insect, please let me seal you in the climax, at the peak of pleasure, on the way to death.

You will gradually realize that the dilemma of survival is much richer and more dreamy than your imagination. If you have never experienced this, you will probably never believe that your endurance is only enough to complete half of the things, or that you can't fall in love no matter how much you do. You will think that human beings are harmless and harmless, and you will even threaten to say that you wish you had suffered more setbacks. Experience failure. It doesn't matter, I thought so too, and like you, I don't believe that one day I will be more sentimental than cute.

That’s it, you’re back. With instructions and kisses from my new love, she came to me. How do you feel when you look at me like an aging still life, a dehydrated apple or a dying crocodile? You only said you had just pulled out a decayed tooth from the dentist, implying that I was just here for a drop-in. When you were leaving, you apologized and blessed me. I nodded because I didn’t want to make things difficult. When you used formalism to pay for your lingering guilt, it didn’t matter to you whether I agreed or shook my head.

You asked me today if I have any regrets. I rarely think about these things, and I probably have never regretted them. But after meeting you, I do feel a little regretful. I regret that the years I took it lightly, the years of pain and anesthesia, the years of excess energy and excessive exertion prevented me from developing into a vigorous person. I am also disappointed. When I am disappointed that you are unwilling to forgive me, I just muddle along. I thought you would be an exception, but I am not surprised. After all, I have been disappointed hundreds of times.

I used to complain about why I did what I did. Now I feel lucky that nothing happened. To live is to experience hindsight understanding. Although this kind of understanding is in vain, it is like a straw man in a rice field and does not threaten too fatal confusion. I had committed various crimes again and again, and because I was often spoiled and angry when I was young, I bet on many things in my life, and all I lost were things I could not afford to lose.

It feels like when I was still drunk in my life, you offered me another glass of wine and punished yourself with three glasses of wine. In forgetfulness, you seriously kissed the humor, and the fish bone penetrated the throat. I just don’t remember whether I said I would come back as soon as I left. Anyway, this trip lasted a long, long time. The master of time has trimmed the lawn of the four seasons, the white cardamom flowers are silently bearing seeds in the wind, and the fruits are seeds. Tea leaves are filled in plain bowls. Experience is multiplied by age. The collective pessimism reduces personal despair. Is the beauty of the rest of my life no longer small? Couldn't be more sad.

I am not a strong person, I am just numb. There are not many people who can stimulate me. Whatever can activate my senses can destroy me without resorting to any vicious means.

We parted peacefully that day and didn’t take it seriously. I probably didn't realize that it would be the last time we saw each other. I got in the car and you returned. From now on, I am one person and you are another person. When you have enough to collect female companions and recruit love, I am busy dealing with loneliness. At the sunset, the twilight is slowly falling. I cry because life is boring, and it is a self-mockery that lacks humor. Beyond that, it doesn’t mean much after all.

To me you are both a long river and a distant mountain, distant, mysterious, submerged, gentle but unexplorable. At this time, my heart is quiet, the enthusiasm is cooled by reason, and the sensibility is cool and sad. I think I'm better. That morbid love burned itself out, leaving behind white ashes, no labor pains, only mistreatment that is hard to remember. Zeng also sang and said, "***, don't break up while you are alive, just exchange tenderness, okay?" But now the deeper we go into love, the more it feels like there is no love at all?

When I decided to be a bad person, there was only one thing I had to do for the rest of my life – avoid having an attack of conscience.

Now, my dear, please give me the sugar cane in your hand. The gluey sugar will make the lipstick uncomfortable. Don’t you want to kiss me? I'm leaving, I'm still alive. For you, it is also dead. The mulberries entered my eyes from your jealousy, and the mountain flowers came from the illness of Alentejo to The Hague. A new woman will soon take over, cooling off my residual heat, inheriting my tenderness, or renewing our three-part agreement. Shh! There are still decades in life, only five minutes left with you, and ten seconds of silence, goodbye.

I once wanted to die at the age of twenty, but now it has been four years since my ideal death date. In the south, I have harvested crop after crop of snake fruit and sweetheart. In the north, I grafted my love onto the groin of the earth, the fragile zone closest to human private parts. I want to live for twenty-four days, twenty-four months, twenty-four years, and use the poet's outdated romance and advanced ideals to dedicate everything that I can barely remember, that I have forgotten with difficulty, that was once the case and will no longer be the case.

My life has no flesh and blood, only nerves.

How easy it is to love those who say goodbye! Until we say goodbye, I will never know what changes your absence will bring to me. And fate leaves me to the next one, the next person who bumps into me or is waiting for me, worse or better.

There are two sentences in life that make me feel ridiculous. One is "I am tired" when I have done nothing, and the other is "I don't want to" when I can't die. live".

Sometimes just because I don’t say anything doesn’t mean I’m indifferent. I'm just waiting, waiting for this matter to completely pass in my heart, or for it to become completely unbearable.

My last hope for human nature is that I can quietly stand by and watch. If you want to add insult to injury, it would be best to move a huge boulder and hit me to death.

I feel more and more lonely because I understand myself better and understand that no one can understand me beyond me. There is no one who can make me stand up for what I believe in and must do. I used to be lawless with the world, but now even my closest relatives can't.

I always say sorry, but I know there will be no forgiveness. What I accumulate is more and more contempt and taboo topics. I don't know what I should say to you. When I talk about my life, you may not be interested. Tell me about my emotions, you think it's unnecessary. I said I miss you, but I can't say the same thing back.

As long as you put your whole heart into it, there is no relationship that cannot be messed up.

I tolerated everything, but in the end nothing could tolerate me.

This is the third day that I have been bedridden. I feel that the soil has buried my knees in life. The calcium-deficient perseverance is as tired as cartilage. On the landscape of life, it has dried into the texture of my mother tongue. Painted skin. The ragged greed turned into a fierce ghost, treating my health as snacks, and my flesh and blood became rice noodles. I'm tired and want to go back. Riding alone in the mountains, the white locust trees are full of flowers, the seven-foot oracle is in the crown of the tree, the starlight from the cloth bag, the cigarettes and the shochu, my hometown is windy all year round.

What makes me sad is that you are asking me what I am sad about. What I am afraid of is saying what I am afraid of.