Essay | Where will that scream in the stomach go

Every time I finish my coffee I want to go to discoteca and go crazy, but the connection between discoteca and going crazy is nothing but a stereotype. Sudden madness, meaningless madness, cannot be accommodated in any social scene. Each pavement has been divided into uses.

I wondered if everyone had screaming, screaming, barking laughter in their stomachs, or if there had ever been that kind of extreme excitement, absolutely vivid, waiting to burst out of the universe. Life is like a piece of paper wrapped in fire, a passionate melody deprived of its sound generator, sweating profusely under the switch of Shostakovich's body. Nietzsche was not afraid of fire, his soul could dance, so Nietzsche went mad.

Back in our ignorant period, the inner scream was locked up in its own secret room. As a "strange spirit", as a "psychological crux", the entire social education will not give them a way out for their unlicensed madness. Where will the screaming in their stomachs go? I have heard it, but unfortunately the whole world is deaf.

My heart seems to be dominated by a supernatural force that I have no way of knowing. Whether it is innate or shaped, I can only touch the elephant blindly. There is one thing that is contradictory. Although I have a brain, I can never know what the brain is doing. I have a body that is constantly running, but I can't sense the movement of any cell parts. I have myself, but I can't recognize myself. , a person must spend his entire life in order to gain a little bit of physical and psychological knowledge about himself. What is the reason for this? Creator's trick?

Sometimes, my self-consciousness will fall, like a stone falling into water, and disappear for a while, these moments are short, when I recall, I can't know where I am, let alone repeat that moment, but I believe in it. It has.

People have built the city like a colorful shipwreck. In the tumult of consumerism, lost democracy, religious terror, racial discrimination, state crime and individual crime, the piled up noise pushes people step by step towards idols and towards a path of misery. the abyss of self anesthesia.

The mute child was looking for his lost voice, and I tried to unleash my imprisoned laughter, and I honestly didn't know where it was, it wandered, performed, drunk, and flickered. People seem to be living in the world blindly, like a light that suddenly disappears.

I confess, I want to laugh when I sit at the dining table, I want to laugh when I sit in classrooms and churches, I want to laugh in the hospital, I want to laugh at the silence for the Nanjing Massacre, because as early as childhood In this era, there are so many good reasons for laughter, and the laughter has been poured on our faces. Because of rules, authority, discipline, and ideals, I forcibly endured. Breaking my internal organs will become the reason for me to hurt the world and be hurt by the world. And I will revel in the gentleman's politeness and forget my ruthlessness to myself. Maybe I have had ten opportunities to enter the laughter center, knowing that laughter can break down all the lies arranged in the world in a flash, and laughter can shatter the world! And I remained silent. Is this not a sin? If the devil knew he could atone for his sins with a smile, would he still put on that gloomy mask? The devil cannot laugh, he is used to control, he relies on violence, on torture, on dogma, on faith, on fear and majesty. His control is vivid. It's control, the irrevocable murder of laughter.

If you don't laugh while you're awake, laugh in your dreams. If you don't laugh while you're alive, laugh in your grave.

smile in dream

- Poem/Brin

that's in trouble

I suddenly tore the script

Cross-legged, laugh, lift off

Laughter like a ghost from hell

lead to death

I roam in the sky

Lying under the armpit of a cloud

She is full of white hair, and Ying goes to Yan to come

Floating with divine sweetness