Running away from home before turning 40!

The winter before I moved out of the house should have been the most difficult winter in my life; in the first three seasons of that year, I shuttled between clinics like entering old age, from head to toe, from psychology to physiology, repeating and repeating. Look for those reasons: Why is the stomach pain so unbearable and unbearable? Why can I feel dizzy and need to stop all movements in an instant, and I still feel tired even when I lie down? Why do I fall asleep like a computer that suddenly shuts down after a sudden power failure when an important and critical manuscript is submitted, and then restarts in an instant...

I didn't find any physical illness, and the first thing the doctor in every clinic asked me was: "Have you slept well?" I can answer with almost the same frequency: "Why do you all ask me? Same problem!" I was utterly frustrated, wishing there was a cure for some ailment, or simply being declared incurable and waiting to die!

That day-long search has become a vicious circle, always reciting what the doctor explained. All the doctors have said: "Don't stress too much, don't work too hastily, rest more, don't be too nervous, exercise more, and eat three meals normally!" Sometimes I would say helplessly: "I have exercise! I have." That's probably the only thing I can refute!

The studio was hard to guard against the plague in Kaohsiung that summer. They ran rampantly rummaging for food in the studio, stealing the peace I had found for myself; I could no longer cook in the studio, fearing them all day long. They will eat the little food I have left, and even if I have emptied the food that can feed them, I still have to listen to them running around but there is nothing I can do!

When he entered the door that day, a little mouse fell into the center of the studio dragging a long, thin blood. I squatted beside it and watched it die, and stayed there for a long time; I scooped it up with cardboard and put it in the mound of the bushes, and I kept saying to it: "I have buried you well, in the next life. Don't be a rat again, everyone is chasing after him!"

But don't be human either, that's too much work! If you die and dissipate in the universe, there will be no reincarnation, no previous life, and it is best not to have a next life, and it will become invisible and never exist again!

I left early that night in front of my computer at home, lying in a space the size of my body, trying to get a good night's sleep. My mother said, "There are mice in the house." I didn't ask much, just wanted to know why the old cats in the house didn't intimidate them so that they could be used as amusement parks like this? I didn't have the strength to respond to any requests or orders from my mother, and I couldn't even answer in a good voice, "Can you handle it yourself?"

Ten years ago, the morning before my father died, I heard creaking—squeaking—squeaks. I ignored it and continued to fall into the dream until the emergency door opened, and it was my sister who hurriedly asked me to get up and go. The emergency department saw my father who died before the hospital and had a coma index of 3; I heard the creak again - creak - I can't tell whether I was in the studio or that morning ten years ago?

I woke up from my sleepless consciousness and yelled at my mother with a volume that scared even me! I pointed to her and asked, "Why do you want me to take care of everything?", "Why is the house so dirty and messy and no one needs to clean it up?", "Why have I said millions of times that I'm so busy and I'm so tired, you all Don't believe it?", "Why are mice in my room?"

I didn't cry, and I didn't get too excited, but the calmness and expressionlessness in my voice made me unable to resist myself, and wanted to do my best to escape from myself!

My mother didn't respond at that time, she habitually ignored any of my emotions, or even regarded me as air, like my sadness, joy, pain, and collapse had nothing to do with her (yes! It really has nothing to do with her) !) I can no longer seek peace in a room like this, I can't find the little mouse, and I don't know if it stayed in the room or escaped?

And where can I escape? I can't go anywhere.

I was frantically playing with my almost broken emotions on Facebook, thinking that anyone would say, "Are you okay?" or leave a comment, like, or tell me a joke.

When a person's emotions reach the lowest level, no matter who is good, really, no matter who is good, as long as there is one thing, one person, one song, one sentence... as long as it can interrupt the mood that made oneself fall at that time, it is all good. It can save the gloomy darkness inside, even in the dark night where you can't see five fingers, it can shine a little light! Otherwise, you will just keep falling into the abyss where you don't know when you will reach the bottom of the valley.

I want to leave all of this, leave the mystery of pain all over my body, leave the fatigue of constantly restarting and shutting down in an instant, leave my violent emotions, and this world that I never want to exist!

I don't know why I changed my mind about "leaving" at a certain moment, from writing a suicide note to deciding to "run away from home"; I wrote a long letter telling my family, "I want to go out!" After a few days of changing clothes, I left the house at 5 o'clock in the cold morning, returned to the studio where there were mice and couldn't sleep, lay down and looked at the three-meter-high ceiling, and slowly fell asleep in exhaustion and tension!

When I woke up during the day, I made a few phone calls to talk to my friends. Xu is full of grievances? Or the powerlessness of life, body, and mind? Or go crazy repeating the same question, fear, worry, trying to get a little strength from someone: strength to go down! (It's strength, not courage! People can always be brave, but they won't always have strength!)

I booked a small homestay online for a few days. I wanted to sleep well. It was just such a tiny wish to give me a comfortable space to stay on that bed and do nothing, and let my body go into sleep at any time. A little physical strength may be able to overcome all powerlessness!

My sister sent me a message and asked me, "Where did you go!" I didn't reply. I rarely read it back in seconds, or rarely read it. She came again: "Why don't you come back?" I couldn't bear to go back and question her: "Well, don't you know that I ran away from home?"

she does not know. No one even noticed the "Leaving Home Notice" that I had written crookedly on the refrigerator. I said to her angrily, "You guys are really exaggerating that you didn't find that letter."

For the next few days, I stayed in the homestay to read, sleep (still couldn’t sleep peacefully), surf the Internet, and work on cases; I opened the news station I wrote to my then-girlfriend a when I was 30 years old, and looked at the words I wrote when I was 30! I actually found the strength to move forward in the letter I wrote to a ten years ago.

I opened a's personal page on facebook and asked her, "Hey, can you use those words to make a book?" She said, "Okay." I said, "Hey, it's really less brave when you get older! Miss me. The words I wrote to you at that time, I don’t even know why my 30-year-old self has so much courage to follow you with a bunch of truths that I have forgotten now, how could I be so invincible at that time?”

I didn't give my mother any information. My mother didn't even look for me or asked me angrily, "Why does a forty-year-old still play this kind of trick?" (This is indeed a rare rebellion in my life, almost never.)

A few days later I checked out at noon and went back to the studio to continue the runaway execution. My mother passed on LINE and asked me, "Are you going home for dinner today?"

"Okay," I said.

The picture is a random shot with a film machine, and the downstairs of the house is shot upwards.