"You don't understand their parenting anxieties, and they don't understand your political depression" - to my 35-year-old self

Written on birthday (5.31).

After another year, she is still the middle-aged woman who has achieved nothing in the world, and can even be said to be a complete failure, but from a personal point of view, this year has been very rewarding: I have followed some bloggers with knowledge and conscience. (Yet they always blow the numbers); read some very enlightening books (beginning with Bruce Bruno de Mesquita/Alastair Smith's Dictator's Handbook, ending with Timothy Garton Ash's "The Archives: A Personal History"); watched some wonderful plays (especially German dramas and German films, I love watching Germans reflect on history); wrote some personal texts ( garnered a few sporadic followers). Most importantly, figured out some things and made some decisions.

After thinking about it, after hesitating and wandering for many years, at the age of 35, which is an embarrassing age in the world, I finally made up my mind to not have children in this life. The reason is very simple, I just don't like it, I don't want to have children. Then, I made an early retirement plan with the person in my family - if it goes well (the world has not gone crazy), I will start selling the property from the seller at the age of 40. After the house is sold and the money is spent, it is estimated that it will almost be buried in the ground. Well done (fuck you, hard work, sour chicken soup, self-struggle without considering the historical itinerary is meaningless). Who will collect the corpse after there are no children? In fact, someone must have collected the corpse, no matter who it is. It doesn't seem to be a problem even if no one collects the corpse, anyway, it won't be me who will be disturbed by the rot and stench. Nothing to stay, nothing to remember.

For the past half of my life, I have no money, no power, no achievements, I have relatives, lovers, a comfortable home, and I have witnessed the most promising era of this land, so now I especially hate those dictators who are perverse and willing to do Slave scum and rude egoistic peers.

In short, my relationship with the world this year can be summed up in the words of my favorite blogger, Deng Ai, that deeply touched my heart - "You don't understand their parenting anxiety, and they don't understand your political depression. "It doesn't matter if you don't understand each other, just stay away from each other. Life is so short, why do you and I hurt each other.

Just a few days before his birthday, Pompeo, whom we have dubbed the "enemy of mankind", wrote "stands with the people of Hong Kong" on Twitter. In my opinion, this is almost "an iron curtain has descended across the continent" of the new century. At that moment, or in other words, my mood and worries over the past few years, were perfectly summed up in the Weibo comments in the picture below. Yes, "some people don't know to be afraid, I don't know why they are not afraid", "I hope there will be no turmoil before I die, and it doesn't matter after I die, anyway, I don't have children, and I don't want to leave anything to the world."

In fact, for me, this feeling of apprehension can be traced back to twelve years ago. For a period of time after the "Wenchuan Earthquake", the reactions of my compatriots made me feel that even though we still have numerous problems, the light of hope is getting brighter and brighter. This sense of hope culminated on the opening night of the Olympics, but then began to decline, disillusioned - the next day, I was sitting on a train in Melbourne, and I saw the front page of a newspaper read by a passenger next door with a big picture of Lin Miaoke. Sing the news. At that moment, an instinctive feeling of something wrong ran through my body. This absurdity, in the years that followed, grew in intensity with the jaw-dropping reality he witnessed, and finally extinguished the ray of hope that had once been there.