《有些东西不会消亡》 / Some Things Do Not Disappear

Written in 2019 by Kisa Li(

Originally published on Douban)

每当痛苦来临，

我就坠入一个信念——

“我必须要努力，必须变得更好。”

我把负面情绪炼成燃料。

写音乐，自学油画，

在练功房里跳舞、拍照、创作、

一遍又一遍。

以为只要不停地做，

悲伤就会被封印在

舞蹈、音乐、油彩和光里。

看着自己的成果，

我几乎相信

痛苦已经消失。

几个月前，

我对舞蹈公司的老板说：

“当我难过时，我总是去练习室，

那是唯一让我平静的地方。”

她说：

“那只是逃避。”

我那时才明白，

这些年我只是

一次又一次地

绕开自己的疼。

那些伤疤从未愈合，

它们堆叠、沉积，

像水底的石——

时间越久，

越重。

因为我从未真正让自己快乐过。

我所做的一切，

不过是另一种逃亡。

有些东西不会消亡，

它只是沉在水底，

而岸上的人

看不见。

Whenever pain arrives,

I fall into a single belief—

I must work harder.

I must become better.

I burn my sorrow into fuel:

writing music, teaching myself to paint,

dancing alone in the rehearsal room,

taking photos, creating,

and creating again.

I thought if I kept moving,

the grief would dissolve

into movement,

into melody,

into color.

Looking at the work I made,

I almost believed

the pain was gone.

Months ago,

I told my director,

“When I feel sad,

I go to the studio—

it’s the only place I find peace.”

She said,

“That’s not healing.

That’s escape.”

Only then did I realize—

all these years,

I’ve been running in circles

around my own ache.

The scars never healed.

They gathered,

layer upon layer,

like stones at the bottom of a lake—

the longer they stayed,

the heavier they became.

Because I never allowed myself joy,

everything I did

was just another way

of hiding from pain.

Some things do not disappear.

They simply sink to the bottom,

and those on the shore

cannot see.