Why do I always hide behind the text?

I woke up abnormally early, lay back in bed but couldn't fall asleep, tossed and closed my eyes, my thoughts started to rush, and suddenly I remembered an article I read yesterday on Sunline - "What Are You Pursuing in Text Communication?" Write the 400th article in the square! " , I always felt that I was struck by the strength of his thinking about why he wrote the text. With his own thoughts, he seemed to lead me to discuss the socialization and freedom of writing.

What is the most comfortable way to write? Frankly, I don't fully understand either! I just keep writing like this, and then I try and explore, and I am convinced that every day I write and write, I will be more comfortable day by day. The freedom I am talking about may not be like streaking, but it may still be I'll walk gracefully dressed, and if that's the way I'm more comfortable, I'll respect the fact that I look better dressed.

Do people who write sincere words feel half-naked when their words are seen? I have a quirk. When writing a text, I occasionally recite words to the manuscript, because I want to hear whether it is smooth. I didn’t want to participate in the reading competition, I just thought that writing is another form of communication, and what I say must be nice , I can no longer ask for the voice given by God, I can only treat the words I wrote myself the day after tomorrow, and people who are greedy to communicate with me through words feel good.

One time I was writing a report on my reading experience in the empty classroom at school. My friend overheard me whispering, and she said in surprise, "Why do you want to read it like this?" Her expression did not seem to be I wanted to blame me for being noisy, but I felt like I saw a "weird person" and wanted to understand me. I'm very touched by my own strange, someone wants to know! I said to her, "After thinking about it like this, I know if my writing is going well or not. I need to think like this. Sorry, did I disturb you?" However, learning to be smart is that when I want to write essays, I am more used to hiding and writing by myself.

Hiding in a space with no one, hiding in the text, the loneliness and abundant creative time gave me the opportunity to spread myself out, I let go of all defensive postures, and stood unarmed in front of the text, being embraced because of humility, my Words love me, no matter how unbearable I am when I write about myself, I know it is because of how embarrassed I have been; my words support me unconditionally, no matter how honestly I admit that I am miserable and don't want to be brave anymore , my text tells me that I can not be brave, but please live well! So, for a period of time, I would cry while writing for no apparent reason, not wanting to be sympathetic to others. When I wrote behind closed doors, I just felt so pitiful. Then, the words turned into a soft quilt that caught the sinking me and fell asleep. , finally get a moment of rest and tranquility.

There are no other people in my writing room, and I am not used to seeing "semi-finished products" during the creation process, especially when someone is watching while typing, I will think: "Oh my God, can that person not stand there? I read minds behind my back? It's scary!" However, I may not be able to completely control my willfulness at work. I once met a supervisor who would sometimes stand behind me, staring at me like a spirit behind me to give a briefing, although he said The briefing is not an emotional text, but I always feel a little uncomfortable when I am doing a serious report. It is not because he is the supervisor. Anyone who comes here may be the same, and so does Mamma.

When I was in middle school, I liked to read recipes, and then I went back to my grandpa’s house (grandma’s house, grandma and grandma lived in the same house) to improvise and cook creative dishes. Why is this happening? Because I couldn't afford the recipes back then, I had to keep the ingredients, recipes and steps in my head. After returning to my grandmother's house, of course, I didn't have all the ingredients, and of course I didn't remember them all. Therefore, I became a grandma. Mammy's chef in the dark cooking world (Is it a bit sorry for the dark cooking world to say that) , but when I do things in the kitchen, I will drive out the grandma who wants to help, and I don't use it very much ( Taiwanese means: I'm not fluent) and my grandma said, "I want to come by myself!" In this way, in the creative process from childhood to adulthood, I seem to like to mess around by myself, and then come up with new flavors (sometimes a horrible taste), and hurried to serve it out for people to taste.

The creative process is very naked. I don’t want others to see how I change clothes, because the process of putting on and taking off is not particularly pleasing to the eye, and it is not worth watching. However, I would like to share the finished product with others. Said: " People who write text don't lie to themselves that they don't want to be seen, and those who don't want to be seen, just keep it in the computer and don't have to take it out for others to see" , it seems that it is really like that! So, every time I finish writing a work that I think is pretty good when I look around, I always want to share it with others, I covet readers to give me sincere feedback, not when I write badly , criticized me loudly: "What kind of shit are you writing?", but cared about my state in a gentle way . My glassy heart will take care of myself, but the touching sincerity needs to be given by others.

I like to ask my husband to be my reader, is this hard work for him? ! Or is it the performance of a beloved wife? ! He is my lover and my loyal reader. He will always give me the most direct and sincere response. When some articles fail to impress him, he will tell me: "I'm fine with this one. " The author can't expect an article to move everyone, everyone has different experiences, if a point of view can make everyone feel the same, I think it is a very superficial understanding, different values, world outlook, outlook on life, Everyone has their own stratosphere. I can only try to cultivate a disposition to empathize with others. I can't hold all my opinions in one body. It is too false, too wronged, and too unreal.

When someone says that I am not good, I will not rush to deny it now, nor will I directly take the seat, let alone get angry with that person, I will tell myself: " Take a moment to get close to yourself, and feel whether this is really the case, if it is bad . If there is something, then, congratulations, someone helped me find a direction in which I can progress; if it is just unwarranted, then congratulations too, because I don’t need to care at all. ”

However, in the past, I was not as open-minded about this aspect as I am now, and I was always concerned about whether others liked the "real" me? Is there still a "fake" me? I am not a person who will deliberately create fake avatars, but many aspects of people are to be opened in different occasions, not fake, I think the boundary of proportion is "appropriate" .

When Facebook first took off, I was writing in the Moments, exploring the use of the social network, and I was eager to find a comfortable "sit up" position in it. Writing, writing, some friends started to respond to me, they said they liked my writing, they said my writing was very good, they said that reading my words would be moved, and they actually copied some of my writings in their own posts. The first paragraph at the beginning of the article, so I am happy, heartbroken, excited, and lost. All kinds of emotional ups and downs are like riding on a roller coaster that I don’t know who is driving. I think it’s because I always listen to others and love myself. The mastery of the matter is handed over to others for safekeeping, which is very dangerous! As for writing, I should still listen to what I have to say in my heart, so I started to build my own writing track. I want to keep writing with a calm heart.

Hear too many compliments, and people will inevitably begin to think that they are truly omnipotent. When I was studying, I liked to call people "Goddess! Goddess!" and "Male God! Male God!" People heard a lot of this kind of words, and sometimes they would easily fall into danger, especially when people began to self-confidence. When it swells, the eyes, mouth, hands and feet are swollen, how do you hold the pen?

The movement to create gods will not end, because people need to have faith. Takeshi Kaneshiro once said humorously: "It's too heavy to say that I'm handsome." His temperament and demeanor are indeed the gods in the eyes of many women. I'm not a saint, so I'm honest. It is not an exaggeration to say that I admire handsome guys, my husband is the first, and Shirotake and Chris Hansworth (the actor who plays Thor) are second. However, the male god doesn't want to be a god in someone else's world, so he guards his own heart and returns to his own world to be a human being. If he wants to become a god, he will also be a god in his own world.

University was a flourishing period for me to write on Facebook. One day, a male friend of the same class invited me out on the grounds of discussing the article. At that time, I was very wary of the opposite sex, but I agreed. One is because it is something I am very interested in. He is a very good writer, so I naturally feel that he is like-minded; the other is because his image is always like a good sister in the circle of sisters. Therefore, sisters Why do you have to get suspicious when you go to have afternoon tea?

It was the starting point of a journey of self-doubt, as if every sip of tea was mixed with the self-doubt of "I'm not good enough to be loved". Why is this so? First, let me introduce my talented male friend. He can write a few lines of ancient poetry at his fingertips, just like the kind of antithetical classical Chinese that I saw in the Chinese textbook.

Gu Shi Nan would cut fruit for me, which flattered me, but then I found out that he did this to many women in the class. Of course, it wasn't that he was not allowed to be nice to other women, but because he always provoked him to approach women and women's friends. I felt the same way back then. He told me, "You know what? Actually, ○○ thinks you are annoying. I hope you don't bother her anymore, don't ask her to read books, don't send her messages." Rock-solid emotions should not be shaken, but at that time, I was in a bit of an awkward period with ○○, so I was sad.

Gu Shinan comforted me, and then went on to ask if I wanted to hear more truth? I nodded, always unable to resist the opened up truth, he continued: "Many people say how well you write your article, but they don't read it at all, it's just because you are beautiful, they only press Like, I left a message for you, your article is not very good at all, but I can teach you, and we can discuss it together."

This sentence was like a blow to the head, but it also caused bruises all over my body, and the bruises could not dissipate for a long time. After I got home, his words spread like a poison, and I fell into a strong self-doubt. Whenever I finished writing an article, I felt like I didn’t want to post it, but sometimes I couldn’t bear to share it with others. Impulsively, whenever someone responds to me: "I read your article, it always resonates", I feel that they are lying to me.

The articles I wrote back then were indeed read now. Compared to now, I can clearly express my state of being "not so good." I have changed the first half of the article, but this sentence "not so good" is up to me! I think when someone is willing to give us advice, it is possible to explore the unknown self by listening without prejudice, but when the advice given by that person is to deliberately kill our will, those words are actually very useful. Don't take it.

Years later, ○○ is still my good friend, and she is the one who sat next to me and accidentally heard me muttering to the article. After graduating from college, when she came back from a business trip abroad, I went to pick her up at the airport. When she needed someone to accompany me, she and I could be on the line for hours. When I felt like I was about to die, she said to me: " As long as I need, she can come to the hospital to accompany me." I am fortunate to have such a deep friendship, I am very grateful for my bravery and that phone call.

That day, I suddenly wanted to call her. Even if I felt hated, I had to make it clear. I didn't want to die in the friendship scene for no apparent reason. I said, "Can we stop sending messages through the ancient poet? I always feel that what you hear is not what I want to say." In that conversation, she told me plainly that she did not like literature, and I told her frankly, "I never wanted to force you to like the same things as me." She boldly stated that she couldn't understand why I even had to send her a message to eat a thick slice of peanut toast, and I also honestly expressed that because I didn't know how to approach her indifference, I could only eat what she liked. When I reported to her with Peanut Thick Slices, I always felt that we could become good friends! I understand that friends are not for attachment, but fate can be used to cherish.

We became real good friends, we talked about everything, and sometimes even if we didn't talk for a while, we could start the conversation again. I remember a time when she passed me the competition information of a certain literary award, and she said, "I always think you will be interested." The topic ended when I said "thank you"! But there are more than a thousand emotions, just like this time I wrote a story with her, and my heart is sunny, but I will not share it with her, because I know that she is not a friend who likes to read, so when I have love words, save After a few life-and-death tests, I'm not afraid to say it directly in person .

Gu Shinan's talent still impresses me to this day, but it can only stay in that memory forever. I have long since let go of him, no contact, no annoyance, anger, and helplessness. It's still the same sentence I confessed to a woman who didn't like literature: "It doesn't matter, if you don't want to be friends with me, we don't have to force it, I just want to say that you will see people's hearts over time."

I see it! I saw three hearts, one is the heart of the ancient poet who is uneasy and fragile and needs to be loved and recognized by others, but he uses a more extreme way to be loved, so I am not a person who loves distorted, there is nothing to care about, anyway, the real Those who can become friends are not so easy to lose. The second heart, I tie my own heart to a girl who doesn’t love literature or reading. Her heart is upright, kind, and undisguised, so when I put my third open heart We had more fun together when we handed it over.

People who know and don’t know have read my articles, but nearly five years ago, I hardly ever wrote in the circle of friends I knew. I always hid behind the pure words and enjoyed the pleasure of writing. I hid myself. It is very secretive, and I feel happy when I write about the entanglement in my heart. I write without any scruples, as if I am in a no-man's land. When I come back to my senses, I am afraid that I will lose the freedom of creation. However, these years, I actually don't care anymore, it's all good, if my words happen to be seen by someone, it's fate.

Now when a friend asks me what is your interest? I always talk about cooking and writing! When they continue to say, "Want to see my work", I will give a little bit of my planet's address, welcome them to my house for dinner, or welcome them to read my inner world, which usually results in There will be a good party, or maybe they can get to know me on another level through words, and if I'm more lucky, I may also hear the little secret they want to share, and maybe become a friend.

Do I have confidence in my words? What is self-confidence? I'm still looking for that feeling and can't really answer. But I can at least guarantee that I have a sense of the words I wrote, and I can't hypocritically imagine myself as someone else to write fantasy essays. Even when writing novels, I extend it with the personality I have come into contact with. So when I write about myself, it all feels real, as for whether I write like it? Maybe it depends on whether the writing skills are honed enough?

One day, a student who had not been in touch with the university for a long time suddenly sent a message, she said, "The name in this article, is it really you?" I clicked on the link to the article she gave, That's my contribution, yes, I said, "Yeah! You found me." With a smiley face symbol, the schoolgirl continued: "I have read your articles since college, and I like to read what you wrote. thing". After so long, I found a real reader of mine. She is not an audience who can leave comments, but it took us several years to understand that in college years, every like she clicked was a She really likes it.

It's a wonderful feeling to know that someone really likes the "real me", so I don't want to hide anymore, let go of my worries that my friends might see some secrets, and I want to live like a "real me" in all aspects. I", trying to open my heart, I began to occasionally publish articles on blogs that I know well in the circle of friends, but not to be popular, but I tried this way, and generously felt that it was very comfortable to live in this way.

Why do I always hide behind the text? Because there is still beauty in the invisible part, you have all seen my true heart, what is more worth reading than words written with heart?

 The girl said that age and experience can be transcended, and the more we believe that words can save some people—or that our very existence is salvation. —Chen Youjin "A Novice Writer's Guide to Survival"

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