Series I 崩塌 Collapse List

你知道这一刻我在想什么吗？
你知道我听这首歌的时候，眼睛湿润了吗？

你不知道。
而你也永远不会知道。

这，
就是隔在我们之间的，

距离。


Do you know what I’m thinking at this very moment?
Do you know my eyes grew wet when I listened to this song?

You don’t.
And you never will.

That—
is the distance

between us.

我们的大脑，
只被自己开发了十分之一。

所以我们一次又一次，
愚蠢地被挫折、
被情绪、
被这些通俗之事打败。

但其实，
打败你的并不是挫折，
也不是情绪，
而是你的头脑。

那些 emotion illusions
在无意中控制着你，
而你却浑然不觉。

人类与宇宙万物一样，
皆由粒子构成。
当意识被打开，
世界的感受就无处不在。

我所说的“开发率”，
不是空间的占用，
而是意识的深度。

那90%无法感知的潜意识，
正无时无刻地
影响着你的生活。

当你真正意识到——
世间万物皆有灵且美，
它们无心、
也无法伤你。

那一刻，
你便会感受到爱。
带着爱与善意去生活，
一切，
都将变得不一样。

The human mind
has only awakened ten percent of itself.

That’s why we keep losing —
to frustration,
to emotion,
to the trivial illusions of being alive.

But in truth,
it isn’t pain that defeats you,
nor emotion —
it’s your mind.

Those emotion illusions
control you without your knowing.

Humans, like the cosmos,
are made of particles.
Once your awareness opens,
you’ll find the world everywhere —
within and without.

The “ten percent” I speak of
is not space,
but depth —
the reach of consciousness.

That other ninety percent,
the unseen subconscious,
shapes every breath you take.

When you realize
that everything in existence
has spirit and beauty —
and that nothing means to hurt you —
you will feel love.

Live with love and kindness,
and everything
will begin to change.

别蠢到一次次
被挫折、情绪打败。

打败你的，
不是挫折，
不是情绪——
而是你的头脑。

那些 emotion illusions
在无意中控制了你，

而你，
却浑然不觉。

其实，
你只是一次次地
被自己打败。

Don’t be foolish enough
to be defeated
again and again
by frustration or emotion.

It’s not the pain
that breaks you,
nor the storm within —
it’s your own mind.

Emotion illusions
take over without your knowing,
and the truth is,
you’ve only ever been
defeated by yourself.

当前方一片黑暗，
当你凝视无尽深渊，
唯有理性与意志
能将你从坠落中拉回。

人们活在
自己的经历、偏见之中，
在各自对“对与错”的感受里
筑起世界的边界。

When you stare ahead
and darkness is all you see,
only reason and determination
can pull you back from the abyss.

People live
within their own experiences,
their prejudices,
and their feelings
about what defines right and wrong.

永远不要向外界寻找依赖——
比如“正能量”、比如“安全感”。
一旦这些事物被抽离，
你就会感到更加不安。

在外面是寻求不到事情的本质的。
无论你怎么寻找，
你得到的都只是印象。

想要找到内心的真理，
就必须从内心出发。

心即性，性即天。
我的正能量，
来自我对内在需求的补充。

我的安全感，
来自我对人生不安全的
充分体验。

Never seek your anchor in the outside world —
not in “positivity,”
not in “safety.”

Because once those things are taken away,
you’ll only feel more lost.
You can’t find the essence of things
out there.

No matter how hard you search,
you’ll only touch the surface —
the impression.

To reach truth,
you must begin within.

The heart is nature, and nature is heaven.

My positivity
comes from meeting my own inner needs.

My sense of safety
comes from fully experiencing
life’s inherent uncertainty.

有时候，
要学会把痛苦变成别的——
变成动力，
变成能量。

不要依附在
那些能让你暂时忘记痛苦的事物上，
那是逃避，
不是面对。

也不要在别人身上
寻求安全感。

当那种依赖消失时，
你整个人都会崩溃。

我痛苦的时候，
只会更努力，
更奋发，
更把所有精力
倾注在让自己变得更优秀的事上。

依靠自己，
自给自足，
而不是依靠别人。


Sometimes,
you have to turn pain into something else —
into drive,
into strength,
into light.

Don’t cling to things
that merely help you forget.
That’s not healing —
that’s escape.

And never seek
your safety in others.

Because once that illusion fades,
you’ll fall apart with it.

When I’m in pain,
I work harder,
fight stronger,
pour everything I have
into becoming better.

Rely on yourself.
Be self-sufficient.
Never depend
on anyone else.

将一切都锁住，
藏在心底，
藏在深渊里。

不需要任何人去发现，
也不需要任何人来心疼。

任何痛苦都不是永恒的，
任何难过都只是暂时的。
与其矫情地
让别人看见自己的脆弱，

不如关上门，
在黑暗里好好休息。

将一切放下，
然后微笑、
阳光地面对
周围的人。 ☀️


deep in your heart,
deep in the abyss.

No one needs to find it,
no one needs to feel sorry for you.

Pain is never eternal,
sorrow is always temporary.

Rather than showing
your fragile side to others,
close the door,
rest quietly in the dark.

Let it all go.
And when you rise again,
face the world
with sunlight in your smile. ☀️

不管怎么说，
是一本书拯救了我。

真的感谢那本书的出现。
如果没有它，
我或许到现在都不明白
自己为什么活着——

也不清楚
以后该如何去生活。

我可能会迷茫一生，
随波逐流……

我无法想象
一个人没有信仰地活着，
那就像行尸走肉。

更不敢想象
若我仍照着别人的思维
去选择自己的人生，
那将是多么恐怖。

对我来说，
想改变不想要的现状其实并不难。

我有目标，
有动力，
也有精神。

但我缺少的，
只是一个支持——
一双能在背后扶持我的手。

一直以来，
我独自做着所有的决定，
独自承担后果与辛酸。

我很累，
但我从未停下。

我不奢望
有人替我奔跑，

但我真的希望
有人能拉我一把。

多希望——
那双手，
能来自我的父母。

No matter what,
a book once saved my life.

I’m deeply grateful for its arrival —
without it,
I might never have understood
why I live,
or how I should continue.

I might have drifted through life,
lost and unawake,
a body without a soul.

I can’t imagine
living without faith —
it would be like being half-alive,
a hollow existence.

And I can’t bear the thought
of shaping my life
through someone else’s mind.

For me, changing what I dislike
has never been difficult.

I have goals,
I have will,
I have spirit.

What I lack
is support —

a pair of hands
steadying me from behind.

All my life,
I’ve made decisions alone,
borne the consequences alone.

I’m exhausted,
but I never stop.
I don’t wish for someone
to carry me forward,
only for someone
to reach out and pull me up.

I wish —
those hands
came from my parents.

你有信仰吗？
你的梦想还在坚持吗？
你觉得活着是为了什么？
这些，你都明白吗？

你以为，被冷酷的社会摧残得粉身碎骨，
就是成熟了吗？
你以为，
你就该戴上面具去虚伪地对待每一个人吗？

你总说这个社会无情、残忍，
所以你必须虚伪地活着，
才能走下去。

可你真的明白了吗？
活在这个世界上的，
是你——
不是“社会”。

你冷酷，你无情，你残忍，你虚伪，
那别人也会以同样的方式
回敬你。

你影响了别人，
别人也会影响别人。
人类塑造了社会，
不是社会改变了人。

说到底——
你是什么样的人，
就会遇到什么样的事。

没有什么能改变你的本性与灵魂，
唯有你自己。

看山是山，看水是水：
人生之初，纯洁无瑕；
初识世界，眼见即真。

看山不是山，看水不是水：
人生渐生愤懑、不平、忧虑、疑问与防备。
复杂的情感让你以为自己长大了。
看山还是山，看水还是水：

恍然大悟——
人本是人，
不必刻意去做人；

世本是世，
无须精心去处世。

而有多少人，
永远停留在第二阶段，
以为那就是“成熟”，
以为那就是“懂得人生”。

其实，
他们什么都还没懂。


Do you have faith?
Are your dreams still alive?

Do you know what you’re living for?
Do you really understand any of it?

Do you think being shattered
by a cruel society
means you’ve grown up?

Do you think wearing a mask
and treating everyone with false courtesy
makes you wise enough to survive?

You keep saying this world is cold,
that people are heartless,
and that you must become the same
just to keep going.

But do you truly understand that?
The one living in this world is you,
not the “world” itself.

If you become cold,
if you become cruel and fake—
then cruelty and falseness
will return to you.

You influence others,
and others influence the world.
It is humanity that shapes society,
not society that shapes humanity.

In the end,
you are what you create.

You are what you attract.
Nothing can change your nature,
your soul—
except yourself.

“To see the mountain as a mountain, and the water as water:”
When life begins, the heart is pure,
and the world is simple—
what you see is what it is.

“To see the mountain not as a mountain,
and the water not as water:”
Life fills with anger, confusion,
doubt, and fear.

You think this struggle means maturity.
To see the mountain once again as a mountain,
and the water once again as water:

You awaken—
to realize that being human
needs no pretense,
and living in the world
requires no performance.

But so many remain
in the second stage forever—
believing cynicism is wisdom,
and disillusion is depth.

They call it understanding life.

In truth,
they have understood nothing.

我不喜欢表达自己的感受。
连最亲的家人、朋友
都很难听到我的倾诉。

我习惯把所有不开心的事
直接埋进心底，
然后永远不掏出来。

说是逃避也好，
不如说——是看淡。

我抗拒别人接近我，
更抗拒他们试图了解我。

那种被“活刨”的感觉，
让我害怕、发抖。

我真的不在乎别人怎么看我，
但我仍不希望
在不了解我的情况下，
有人用自己的想法
强行分析我。

I don’t like expressing what’s inside me.
Even my closest family and friends
rarely hear my confessions.

I bury my sadness deep within,
and never dig it out again.

Call it avoidance if you want—
I call it acceptance.

I resist people getting close,
resist being understood.
It feels like being dissected alive,
and that terrifies me.

I truly don’t care
how others see me—
but I do mind
when they assume they know me,
and try to define me
without ever listening.

Thank you.

我记得小时候有人问我：
“到底是什么力量，一直支撑着你？”

是啊，我也想知道。
我多希望那股力量
来自世界，而不是自己。

可惜——没有。
别跟我谈什么现实。

我一直都活在
我不想接受的现实里。
我不能坠落，
只能清醒。

擦干泪，掩好伤，
努力认真地活着。
这，是我人生中
第一件痛苦的事。

逃避？
我从不逃。
只是长大后，
更想躲起来。

那时的我很感性。
后来遇到第二个瓶颈期，
最难的岁月。

没有信仰，
没有支撑，
没有期望——
只有一副不堪的灵魂。

那时我靠的是精神。
感谢那本书，
和那几句话，
让我重新
想要活下去。

“天将降大任于斯人也，必先苦其心志……”
“上天想让你特别，就会给你特别的经历。”

我想成为特别的人。
所以石头、挫折、
我都要承受。

于是我变成理性的人。

现在的我，
在别人眼里
是不需要被照顾的人。

他们说我坚强，
从不累，从不哭。
他们不知道，
下一秒的我
已经厌恶那一秒柔软的自己。

也许这就是
没人愿意靠近我的原因。
不是不敢，
是不想。

谁愿意去了解一个
什么都不说、
什么都藏在心里的人？
每个人都渴望
被在意、被特别。
那谁还有空
去了解别人呢？

我多想
掏空自己，
让心放空。
什么都不想，

像一场
没有梦的睡眠。

可惜从没能做到。
我总是想太多。
我无法放下。

亲人朋友说我逃避。
他们说我在心里
筑了一座寂静岭。

我把坏的记忆都留在那里。
他们逼我去撕开旧伤，
撒盐。

我不愿提起。
那就是逃避吗？
也许吧。

我不是怀旧的人。
我甚至恨那些
只看着过去的人。

我以为我释怀了。
我看开了。
可一旦提起，
泪又落。
疼痛清晰得像昨天。

他们说：
“你看吧，你根本没放下。”

我笑。
“别说撒盐，泼硫酸都没事。”

我在讲笑话。
我总是用笑话
掩饰恐惧。

却不小心，
暴露了不安全。

朋友说，
我比同龄人经历得太多。
希望我能因此更勇敢。

是的。
关于爱情，
我不想再陪别人成长。
我一个人，
已经够累了。

有时我也嘲笑上帝——
到底要给我怎样的人？
什么时候，
我才能笑着讲出
曾经的难过？

深夜失眠，
写下这些乱七八糟的心事。
把心里的一部分
放下来，
放在这里。
舒服多了。

告诉自己：
明天又是新的一天。
写到这里，
我也笑了。

笑笑吧——
人生有那么多小烦恼。
真正让人难过的，
不是发生了什么，
而是那些事情带来的感受，
那些感受牵出的压抑与疲惫。

归根结底，
一句话：
想得太尼玛多了。




Someone once asked me,
“What’s the power that keeps you going?”
I wish I knew.

I wish that power came from the world,
not from inside myself.
But it never did.

Don’t tell me about reality.
I’ve lived in a reality
I never wanted to accept.
I can’t fall apart—
I can only stay awake.

Wipe the tears,
hide the wounds,
keep living properly.

That was the first
painful lesson of my life.
Escape?
I never thought of it—
yet the older I got,
the more I wanted to hide.

Back then I was soft.
Later came the second wall,
the hardest years.
No faith,
no hope,
no anchor—
just a soul worn thin.

My only refuge was my mind.
I’m still grateful
for that one book,
for those two sentences
that whispered:

“When heaven assigns a great task, it first must break your heart.”
“To make you special, life must first test you.”

I wanted to be special—
so I took every stone, every fall.
That’s how I became rational.

Now people say
I don’t need protection,
that I’m strong, unbreakable.

They never see
how I despise the softness in me
the moment it appears.
Maybe that’s why
no one gets too close.

Not fear—
just no will to try.

Who wants to read
a person who never speaks?
Everyone wants to be the one
who’s loved the most.

So who has time
to understand anyone else?
I wish I could empty myself,
shut it all off—
a sleep without dreams,
just once.

But I never could.
I think too much.
I always have.

They say I avoid the past.
Maybe I do.
There’s a Silent Hill in my chest,
where I’ve left the bad memories locked.

They call that denial.
I call it survival.

Why must they keep
ripping the scars open,
pouring salt again and again?

I’m not nostalgic.
I hate people who only live backward.
I thought I’d let go.
I thought I’d moved on.

Yet every time I speak of it,
the tears come back,
sharp and fresh.

And they say,
“See? You’ve never let go.”
I laugh.
“Don’t worry—
you could pour acid,
and I’d still be fine.”

I joke,
to hide fear.
But jokes expose
the fear itself.

They say I’ve lived too much
for my age.
That I should be braver
because of it.

Maybe.
As for love—
I don’t want to raise another person.
I’m tired already.

Sometimes I laugh at God.
What kind of person
is He saving for me?
Will I be able to smile
when I talk about the pain?

It’s past midnight.
I can’t sleep.
I’ve said too much,
emptied a small part of myself
onto this page.
It feels lighter now.
I tell myself:
tomorrow will be a better day.

I even smile.
Life’s little troubles—
they’re endless.

But what hurts
isn’t what happens.
It’s what it feels like.
The weight beneath the feeling.

In the end,
it all comes down to one line:

I think too fucking much.

那一年，一个人躺在病床上，
我以为一切都结束了。
未来、希望、梦想、前途——
都成了灰色的尘，

在心里一点点崩塌。
浮躁、抑郁、狂暴，
我像一只竖满利刺的刺猬，
对所有人防备，

拼命“保护自己”。
深夜的医院安静得像被掏空。
窗外的树枝
在月光下如魔鬼的手，
走廊里空无一人。

耳机里那首 Szomorú Vasárnap，
像一根细细的线，
牵着心的暗处微微颤动。
那时我常走在陌生的街道，
看见家家户户的门口
挂着红灯笼与春联，
迎接新年的光亮。

而我知道——
那些温暖与喧闹
都与我无关。

冬风迅疾地打在身上，
我只能用更冰冷的方式，
去赶走心里的寒栗。

后来我明白——
在这个世界上，
能拯救你的人，
只有你自己。



The year I lay in a hospital bed alone,
I thought everything was over.
The future, hope, and dreams—
all crumbled into the same shade of grey.

Restless, depressed, and volatile,
I turned into a hedgehog of blades,
pointing every spike outward,
calling it protection.

At night, the hospital felt hollow,
and the branches outside
looked like the hands of a quiet demon
under a moon too bright to bear.

The hallway was empty.
In my earphones,
Szomorú Vasárnap
trembled like a faint pulse—
the sound of a heart still trying to live.

I wandered through unknown streets,
past doorways bright with red lanterns
and the scent of the New Year.
And I knew—
none of it was mine.

The winter wind struck fast and hard,
and I fought the cold
with something colder.

In the end, I learned—
in this world,
no one can save you.
Only you can.

那段岁月里，
严谨的制度与压抑的空气
教会了我掩藏自己，
将所有的情绪深埋在心底。

也因为柔软的外表，
无数麻烦无端坠落在我头上。
我不解释，也不辩白，
傻傻地相信——吃亏是福。


我与周遭格格不入，
于是学会伪装成另一个自己。
后来，
那副伪装竟渐渐长进皮肤，
面具成了我。


仿佛被丢进一口井，
与人谈论着
那口井上能看到的天空。
每次站在窗前，
我都渴望望见围墙外的世界——
却在走出围墙之后才明白，
真正被囚禁的，
早已不仅仅是自由。


每天，我都拿着琴谱，
把自己关在钢琴房里。
那是我唯一心安的地方——
那里只有我，
只有我的灵魂与这副骨架。
有音乐陪伴，
我便不再害怕任何事。

我永远都忘不了
每一个跑完步独自走回家的夜里
这些陪着我的旋律、歌词 还有心情

作为一个喜欢沉浸在自己过往里的感性人类
我真的深深的迷恋着这种被内心的阴暗痛苦折磨得痛哭流涕的感觉。

I remained too much inside my head,
and ended up losing my mind.

在这个成长过程中
我总是把生活看得过分沉重
可这就是我现实中的生活。

过往所有的一切经历造就今天我，
我的思想，我的精神，
我的内在，我的性格，
我的一切。

小时候孤僻不合群又不善言辞的我让内心从小就开始学会压抑自我
小小年纪离开父母远到他乡上学的时候我总是一个人。
一个人早早的起床吃饭，看书，练功，周末一个人去练琴，练舞。
那个时候我不明白孤独是什么 也许我连孤独的感觉是什么都体会不到吧。

后来，
从家人同学口中听到孤僻这个词的时候我感到惶恐。
我人生中第一次体会到原来“独处”是一种不正常，
一种无法与人交往的象征。

说着“你狮子座的性格不应该是这样啊，
狮子座那么开朗大方你却完全相反。”
我心想，我要长大，我要变得开朗起来。

我努力学会伪装自己融入群体
努力像家人和朋友证明自己长大了 因为那样才能成为真正的自我。

这样渐渐长大的过程中
这种融合让我感到痛苦
我害怕别人觉得我无法跟她们正常相处、
无法跟同龄人聊着各种八卦 新衣服 鞋子 包包 各种品牌。

所以我一直努力压抑着真正的自我去成长。
说实话。
我不感兴趣。
真的。
我感到痛苦，害怕

我痛苦没人明白我不喜欢跟周围的人打着交道去聊着我从不关心的话题
自从知道了孤僻的含义
我更害怕让别人觉得我孤独 我觉得那是个贬义词。

我不想做同龄人眼里的怪咖。
是的
这样的我
变得开始很没有安全感。
连上厕所都变得害怕自己去会被人所笑话。

有时候面具戴久了，
就真的融入进皮肤里了。

我觉得变成开朗大方的女孩才是正确的
而我也这么做到了
但是，
我幸福吗？

多希望能够回去告诉那个可怜的女孩儿：
“You don't have to try so hard and change yourself...”

那个时候我不明白特立独行意味着人格强大。
也许是因为习惯了压抑。

后来的时候。
我将这个习惯（本能）爆发利用了。

我学会了戴着面具生活 说实话，
人类对于这个宇宙真的不算什么。

可是人类却要在自己给自己规定的范围，
设立的制度里，
每个人戴着面具去虚伪的生活
并且告诉自己的下一代
“这就是社会 这就是生活
我来告诉你怎么去做 你一定要遵守规则”

我们都只是跟随着其他人活着罢了
像颗棋子
别人告诉怎么走，
我们就跟着走
因为那样才是“对”的

后来发生的一切让我崩溃了
我第一次体会到自己是那么的脆弱 脆弱得不堪一击。

关于如何拯救自己的故事
因为太励志
导致让周围的人都把我当成了正能量
当成了自我成长的导师

其实心里对于这些称号感到蛮可笑的

首先我的成长，
我的伤痛。
我把它们当成人生中最特别的宝藏。
我不希望别人对我的可怜或者心疼或者看戏什么的
玷污了我的人生宝物。

其次只有我才知道我并不是什么正能量的人。
我浑身充满了负能量，
我努力，因为我内心充满了不甘
我学习，因为我觉得我无知
我看书，因为我只有在书里才能找回自己
我作曲跳舞也好
画画也好，
因为我认为那是最能抒发情绪的途径
都仅此而已。

不是什么上进的代言人。
所以当我以前读到尼采有一本书时我哭了。

我看到他说了一句话：

你遭受了痛苦，
你也不要向人诉说，
以求同情，
因为一个有独特性的人，
连他的痛苦都是独特的，深刻的，
不易被人了解，
别人的同情只会解除你的痛苦的个人性，
使之降低为平庸的烦恼，
同时也就使你的人格遭到贬值。

我不曾体会到能在找到知己的感觉。
而那一刻我找到了，
我体会到了
我不想抬举自己，
也不觉得这样能让自己变得特别。

我只是纯粹的开心，兴奋
开心能够让自己的痛苦感受找到合适的表达。

后来的沉思录，
王阳明，
我都对这些拥有着无法言喻的感情。
那种感情 这个世上对我在这个“现实社会”最有帮助最强大的内心力量。

人类在对自己喜爱的事物上会有热血沸腾的情绪产生
而我的生命里
我只对艺术和书本有过这样的情绪。

那种燃烧着身体里每一滴血液的感觉
那种让你彻夜难眠刺激感官和神经的痛快
这些都是人活着的动力不是吗
没有激情
哪儿来的动力

音乐也是陪伴我长大的力量。
小时候的钢琴曲，
后来的new age，
后来的trip hop，post rock。

我认为这世上最适合表达思想的莫过于艺术和文字。
那些无法开口的美。

我沉浸在此。
我无法自拔。
我偏执痴狂。

你不懂，
没人懂。
为什么那么执迷不悟。
因为能够在这里找到自己。

我欠儿时自己一个对不起
因为无知变得世俗
因为愚昧变得虚伪
也感谢这样的我会有别样的经历
让自己重新看清所有
有了跟别人不一样的世界观 喜欢了跟别人不一样的事物。

我一开始以为我不喜跟人交往，
是因为我没有遇见跟我有共同爱好、经历、价值观的人。
到后来才发现，
我只是经历了以前的所有，
更是懒得去维系没有意义的关系了

人本生来孤独，离去也是。
途中只是短暂陪伴罢了
我何必去为难自己跟让我感到无趣 没有意思的人结伴而行呢？

人本是人，不必刻意做人；
世本是世，无须精心处世。

回到开头第一段的话题
为什么会每天晚上跑步 听歌
因为那是我抒发自己痛苦的唯一途径。

周而复始虚伪对话，
无聊的人际交往 都让我感到疲惫
只有跑步， 在夜里跑步，
在夜里独自的跑步，
大汗淋漓 这样的夜色 这样的歌曲 这样身体上的疲惫感觉都让我感到入迷。
这样才能让我重新振作去面对第二天的又重复日子。

而这两首歌是我人生中最听不腻
每次听都会泪流满面的曲子。

I think I'm gonna fall again.

两首曲子让我重返了内心里一个黑房间一遍，
也许你内心的黑房间是阴暗的 不可触及的 而我的，
我把它当做自我。

（日记而已。） 2016 抑郁症是写的

I will never forget
those nights walking home alone after running —
the melodies, the lyrics,
the moods that stayed with me.

As someone who sinks too easily into her own past,
I have been hopelessly drawn
to the kind of darkness
that hurts so much it makes you weep.

I remained too much inside my head,
and ended up losing my mind.

Growing up,
I took life too seriously —
but that was my life.
Every fragment of the past shaped today’s me:
my mind, my spirit, my temperament,
my everything.

As a child I was quiet, withdrawn,
never good at words.
My heart learned restraint too early.
When I left home to study far away,
I did everything alone:
woke early, ate alone,
read, practiced piano, danced.

I didn’t know what loneliness was.
Perhaps I didn’t even feel it.

Later, people began calling me “aloof,”
and for the first time, I felt fear —
as if solitude were a flaw.
“You’re a Leo,” they said,
“you should be bright and sociable.”

So I tried.
I pretended.
I forced myself to smile,
to fit in,
to prove I had grown up.

And it hurt.
I feared being called weird,
feared silence,
feared being seen as wrong.

I put on a mask so long
that it became skin.
I became the cheerful girl everyone expected.
But was I happy?

How I wish I could tell that little girl —
You don’t have to try so hard to change.

I didn’t know then
that standing apart
is its own kind of strength.

Years later, in the army,
that old habit of suppression returned.
I learned to live behind masks.
Humans are so small in the universe,
yet we build cages for ourselves —
systems, rules, expectations —
and call them life.

We follow what others say is right,
because obedience is easier than thought.

When everything collapsed,
I realized how fragile I was.
People called my recovery “inspiring,”
called me “positive energy.”
But I laughed inside.

My growth, my pain —
they are my treasures, not lessons for others.
I am not a symbol of hope.
I am full of shadows.

I work hard because I’m unwilling to accept defeat.
I study because I know I am ignorant.
I read because books are the only place I find myself.
I create — music, dance, paint —
because that’s how I breathe.

When I read Nietzsche, I cried.
He wrote:

“You suffer, but do not tell your suffering in order to obtain sympathy. A person of individuality has also individual, profound, and hardly comprehensible suffering. The sympathy of others would only take away the personal nature of your pain and make it a common misfortune, thus diminishing your character.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human (1878)

In that moment, I felt understood.

Later, in Meditations and in Wang Yangming’s words,
I found the same truth —
the strength of inner clarity.

I’ve only ever burned with passion
for two things: art and books.
That fever that keeps you awake,
that ache that makes you alive.

Music raised me.
From piano pieces to trip-hop and post-rock,
each sound was a mirror.
Art and words —
the most honest languages I know.
I am obsessed,
possessed,
unreachable.
You wouldn’t understand.
No one does.

Why so stubborn?
Because in that darkness,
I found myself.

I owe my younger self an apology —
for becoming worldly out of ignorance,
false out of fear.

Yet I’m grateful, too,
for all those years shaped me,
gave me a different lens,
taught me to love what others overlook.

I once thought I disliked people
because I hadn’t met anyone like me.
Now I know:
I’m simply too tired
to maintain connections that mean nothing.

We are born alone,
and we leave alone.
Companionship is only borrowed time.
Why force ourselves
to walk with those who drain us?

Be human without trying so hard to be one.
Live in the world without pretending to belong to it.

So why do I run at night,
with music in my ears?
Because that’s the only way I can release the pain.
Meaningless talk exhausts me.
But running —
alone, in the dark,
sweating,
breathing —
that’s the only moment
I feel real.

That’s how I face another day
in a life that repeats itself.

And these two songs —
I never tire of them.
Every time, I cry.
They bring me back
to the black room within me.

Perhaps your black room is untouchable,
but mine —

mine is me.

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.

I Don’t Need to Be Social

Written in 2016 by Kisa Li
(Originally published on Douban)

Once, a friend told me,
“Here’s a piece of advice — make more friends,
any kind of friends.”

Another said,
“Don’t close yourself off.
Meet new people.
Trust them.”

I know what they meant.
In their world,
friends expand your sight,
bring opportunities,
make you whole.
They’re right, in their way.

There are people I meet,
we gather, talk about life,
drink, laugh,
rehearse our existence.
Old classmates,
co-workers,
faces that orbit mine.

You might call them true friends,
but I call them passing echoes —
voices that fill the room
without ever touching the heart.

Someone once said:
“You can tell a person
by the company they keep.”
I disagree.
Or, half agree.

Yes — your circle reveals a shade of you.
But when I’m alone,
that’s when I am most myself.
So if that’s true,
you will never truly know me.

You can’t see me through
my drinking companions.
In front of them, I play a part —
speak what can be spoken,
fit into the noise.
That’s not friendship.
That’s survival.

Two people meet after years apart,
talk about what was.
Maybe that’s all they still share.

Friendship is not emotion,
it’s perspective.
If our worlds do not align,
how can we walk together?

Life is brief.
Life is long.
Choosing who walks beside you —
that’s cultivation.

Yet people cling to others for benefit,
for face,
for comfort.
They build circles
to make their loneliness invisible.

When they tell me again,
“You need friends,”
I smile.

“I don’t.”

“I have friends,” I said,
“those who share a vision,
who dream in the same language.
If I haven’t met them yet, I’ll wait.
Solitude is not suffering.”

“They help me grow —
not in advantage,
but in spirit.”

They laughed.
“You can’t live in this world
without social skills.”

Maybe they’re right.
We keep the rituals
of those before us,
call it survival,
call it human.

But I still said,
“I don’t need to.”

I don’t need to waste time
on conversations that hollow me out.
I don’t need to pretend interest
in what I don’t care for.
I don’t need to share my WeChat,
to let strangers peer into my life.
I don’t need to show my songs
to those who cannot hear.

What I need
are the ones who call at 3 a.m.
to talk about xin xue —
the unity of knowing and doing.
The ones who live with integrity,
who speak the same silence.
That girl from Kuwait
who talked about music
until dawn.

I need conversation of the soul,
friends as rare
as books and music.

Not the empty dance
of social noise.

You see,
what a beautiful life it would be —
if we stopped wasting it
on people
who never listen.

写于 2014 年 · Kisa Li

当你正在努力做一件事，
或朝着某个目标前行的时候，
若你感到内心充满了光——
那种平静而温热的力量，
那说明你走在对的方向上。

当你做着正确的事，
你不会感到疲惫。
你不会觉得这是负担、痛苦、压力。
反而会在过程中
感受到喜悦与安宁。
那种快乐的工作与学习，
让心变得澄明，
让你看清自己正做着什么。

很多时候我们所谓的“累”、
所谓的“有压力”，
其实来自于——
你看待事情的方式错了。

事情本身并不带有痛苦。
比如一颗苹果，
有人觉得它酸涩，
有人觉得它香甜。
那么苹果究竟是好吃还是难吃？
——它本无意义。
意义存在于你如何看它。

你不需要催眠自己
去喜欢那颗苹果。
只要明白：
苹果本是纯净透彻的，
它的味道来自你的感受。
掌控权，一直在你心里。

那颗心，
就是知。

再想想太阳。
当乌云遮蔽了天空，
太阳就不存在了吗？
并不是。
它仍在，只是被蒙住了双眼。
乌云，是所发生的事；
太阳，是你的“知”。

情绪翻涌，
占据了整个天空，
让你看不见方向。
而驱散乌云、
让光重新照耀的过程，
就是——功夫。

先在心上下功夫，
你便能真正
理解身边的一切。

看到朋友的动态有感而发。
想用最通俗的方式告诉他们这些简单而深奥的道理。
可是，有多少人能做到知行合一呢？
光想，是不行的。




When you’re working hard toward something—
a goal, a dream, a direction—
and you feel a quiet joy rising inside you,
a kind of energy that’s both calm and radiant,
that means you’re on the right path.

When what you do is right for your heart,
you don’t feel exhausted.
You don’t feel the weight of pressure or pain.
You feel alive.
You find peace in the work itself.
And from that peace
comes clarity.

Often when we say we’re tired or stressed,
it’s not the task that exhausts us—
it’s the way we see it.

A thing itself carries no pain.
Take an apple, for example.
Some people think it’s sour,
others find it sweet.
So is the apple good or bad?
Neither.
Its taste has no fixed meaning.
Meaning lives in the mind that perceives it.

The lesson isn’t to hypnotize yourself—
to say, “I love this apple, I must eat it.”
It’s to see that the apple is pure,
neutral,
without intent.
What it gives off
is only what you decide to feel.
The power is within your heart.

That heart is called Knowing.

Now imagine the sun.
When clouds hide it,
does the sun cease to exist?
Of course not.
It’s still there,
only your sight is covered.
The clouds are events,
the sun is your Knowing heart.

When storms come,
they fill your sky with emotion
until you can no longer see the light.
But clearing the clouds—
that is practice.

When you work upon your heart first,
you begin to see the world clearly.

(Written after reading a friend’s post —
wanting to express, simply,
that truth is not in thinking,
but in living what you know.
How few truly practice
the unity of knowledge and action.)

海洋吞没了曾经的土地，\n崩塌的边缘映照忧伤。

灰烬飘散，归于虚无，\n崩塌后重生的微光闪烁。