【Miscellaneous】【Prose】Comfort

She said, "Why don't you want to tell me about your current situation and sadness? It's like you treat us as outsiders." I looked at her, speechless. I don't want to be seen by others, my whole body is covered with bruises. But when I told her about my scars, I got what she called "a blow to the head". How sad should I be? That kind of feeling, as if she doesn't care about me, she doesn't see me from the perspective of a relative, but from the standpoint of an "ordinary person"...

Her so-called comfort has always been at stake, and I just followed her script.

I once knew how good she was, and I knew that I was really hurt. How should I face it?

***

Eating Tuyun fish soup noodles, listening to old Hokkien songs, and sighing that this day has passed like this again. I don't know if my stagnant attempt has brought great help to my life. On the miscellaneous side, I weave my words and play word games, intending to cover my weak wounds.

Redness, no pain.

Later, I told myself that the relative was just talking for a moment, or that she really thought so, but she didn't mean to hurt me. Later, I also told myself that she treated me well, and I still remember that I believed that she loved me, but the words she loved me sometimes only hurt me.

That's it.

If only this hadn't happened, I think, if only I hadn't been hurt.

But if I hadn't been injured, how would I know how beautiful the corners were after the injury, how could I talk freely about my recovery experience. No, I can not…….

***

Eating my noodles slowly, scrolling through the poems I have written over the past few years, looking at the desires that have not yet been published. I looked at the time, and it was a little after six-thirty that the sun had already set.

In such a big city, only the night scene accompanies me.