[Matters 87] Her Social Aphasia

On the days of light rain, the voice of the world is like water vapor infiltrating her, speaking for her and constructing her.

She lay on the bed, watching the night turn grey-blue and then grey, filling the room. It's dawn.

The outside world was talking and talking, making her pale and speechless, but the thoughts in her body were still flowing.

She was thinking: just like most of the time value has to be put on the market before it can be clearly defined, language also seems to be meaningful in the context of communication - the "communication" in her mind, which may also be called social, but it is has a broader meaning. She believes that social networking is not only face-to-face physical social networking, or virtual social networking on the Internet, nor does it refer to social networking that exists in the same era through voice images or texts, but also includes reading or watching texts or videos left over from past eras. , and engage in spiritual socialization  …

So, after not closing her eyes all night, she found that "that time" had come again.

There are a few days of the year when she falls into synchronic social aphasia.

Although it is aphasia, if you look at it from a brighter angle, you may be able to say that she fell into such a state, which is a kind of self-cultivation and repositioning her life direction - even if she seems to be born to know how much life is. The vanity and glitz are meaningless, like the floral carpet in Somerset Maugham's The Shackles of Humanity.

However, she always thought, if life is a carpet of flowers, although it can be regarded as a work of art, it is still illusory in nature, isn't it? Therefore, she always felt how empty everything was based on life, but she had to follow a set of basic principles of being a human being: continue to live, and "please" don't die abnormally. That "please" was said to her by people who had passed by her world over the years.

Occasionally, she wondered if the emptiness of this moment would have been worth it if she had passed away six years ago, and ironically proved that she was still alive - alive, so she could feel empty, so If you want to die because of emptiness, you will fall into a paradox.

This speculative thinking has always brought her the label of depression. However, she knew very well that she just thought that the end of this journey was so clear, so the fun was just quenched.

It was just social aphasia, she admitted.

Just like there is a saying in the love world: "I love you, but it has nothing to do with you." So in terms of her life, can it be said like "I live or I die, it has nothing to do with you"? ?

She suddenly remembered that after the funeral that day, she walked out of the hall into the sun and felt the drizzle at the same time. Was it the sunshine that made her feel that there should be no drizzle, or the drizzle that made her doubt the authenticity of the sunshine? In short, she didn't understand for a moment, how could the two be so harmonious together? During that section of the road, there were birdsongs on the trees—the birdsongs were very light at that time, but now there were no birdsongs, only noisy vehicles passing by. pregnancy? die? Hearing the sound of the car, she became more and more confused.

However, she knew that she would occasionally see through the fact that the biggest problem in her life was this corrupt body.

Yes, because of the annoying funeral customs, how extraordinary the human death is, and the body even has an aesthetic standard.

However, just like a bird, or like a cat, or even to the scary Japanese movie "Narayama Festival Kao", in fact, whether a thing is bad or not seems to depend on how it is defined, and the definition is related to language.

language, eh? She groped for the words to rule the world, like swimming to save herself, but like falling into the abyss.

She is very clear that on the surface, the language she speaks can be understood by others, but the logic that supports her use of language is a different set that is out of place and should not exist in society.

So she was speechless. Social Aphasia. Spontaneous obsessive aphasia.

In the days of social aphasia, in addition to minimizing the cross-generational spiritual social interaction, she also had a very small amount of synchronic social interaction, or followed the "action table" to do things every minute and every second, and the remaining empty time was magically made. She wanted to escape into the world of fiction. Even if her logic is weird, she can say in the name of art: This is an ideological experiment, and I am writing a novel, so I am still living hard.

It's just that in the past few days, she has been writing thousands of words, and she suddenly looked at the screen, her eyes blurred, and her mind stagnated, and she didn't know why all this happened. She stopped typing just like that, and for a moment, she was surprised that even the fiction world would reject her absurdity, but she soon realized that it was her almost instinctive desire for death that rejected her from continuing to act. .

The desire turned into a voice that rebuked her: "To live is to die."

So, she saw the door again. A door separates the two worlds, one is born and the other is dead. Her body is wandering on the side of life, but her spirit is stripped away from time to time to go to the world of death, calling her body to conform to her identity.

The physical and mental clamor drove her almost mad.

"Well? Why don't you talk anymore?" asked some people who passed by her life.

"It's okay, I'm fine." The skilled skill of throwing and catching the ball for many years.

No one knew that her body and spirit were clamoring for each other. In fact, she said a lot of words in the past few days, and she almost killed her. She could only slightly jump out of the tense situation, using a certain weak brain nerve pathway. The hustle and bustle is punctuated with a more rational voice, and the phrase "this may be diagnosed as a secondary cause of aphasia".

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The spirit does not always stay in the dead. The timeless nature of the spirit occasionally made her mistake it for being close to the divine.

For example, what kind of constructive meaning does she begin to describe in the dark night? The meaning of life, my meaning, our meaning, the meaning of society, the meaning of the country, and the meaning of the world and the universe. No matter how clear she is, many times the meaning is given subjectively, and it is linked and even integrated with the language. But whenever I think that the end of life is more illusory death than ashes, everything about meaning, or everything about language, loses power again.

Inside the door, outside the door, the threshold. She began to feel that her mind and body were no longer just tearing at the door, but dancing a weird tango.

Maybe it's not really tango, but the night is suitable for spiritual gallop. then--

"Why do you not want to meet and communicate with most of the co-existing people and even spread your message? Why do you really want to show any ideas that come out of yourself - no matter how much they conform to the norms of society and how far they are from me?"

"Ah, so petty." She laughed to herself. If the first symptom of aphasia is the awareness of the nothingness of existence, and the second symptom is the energy consumption of the mind and body screaming at each other, then this social, other-involving idea is always mean and frivolous.

But the spirit still preempted the criticism and began to explain:

"Because most of the time it is very acutely perceived that no matter how an idea is told, it will always be vaguely misunderstood, that the ideas expressed are the ones that the teller agrees with, no matter how much the listener or the receiver. Qingming, but to some extent there will be misunderstandings.”

"So, you hate being misunderstood, right! You hate not being understood, being mislabeled, that's not you," the voice said. At this time, she felt that she was in the desert of night, or the starlight roamed, both dissipating and condensing, neither existing but seemed to make a thin sound.

"Disgust?" Catching this word, somewhere in her scattered thoughts, she covered her mouth and smiled.

The laughter hadn't stopped yet, but because of her laughter, she suddenly discovered that she had won this battle again, with her body and most of her spirit returning to the time and space where she belonged.

So she felt a huge exhaustion, and with the last bit of strength, embellished this sentence: "If you are disgusted, you will not die. Because disgust itself is language, and it will force you to use language to further label other things."

So that night, she was finally able to fall asleep, and even had no dreams all night.

**

as abstract. It's a dark short story.

If you feel uncomfortable after eating, please remember this sentence to face the sun, the shadow will be behind :)