I closed my eyes and listened to my inner voice amid the teacher’s guidance.
But I didn’t hear it.
In any case, all I could hear was the noise of cars speeding across the road outside. It is not a single sound, it seems to be mixed with the air, the trembling of flowers and plants, the sound of birds flying by and flapping wings, the whispers in the buildings with densely lit lights, the sound of earthworms loosening the soil in the ground, the sound of people crossing the road. The footsteps of pedestrians, the buzz of mosquitoes flying in the halo of street lights. . .
All the sounds, mixed with the pressure of the tires and the friction of the ground, wandered between my eardrums. They were noisy and lonely at the same time.
I can’t get into my heart.
After staying in the house for too long, my heart began to feel desolate. How I want to feel the spring green and open wind outside.
Mr. He was finally going to work.
I said, should you shave? His hair was very long, with white hair sprouting like mushrooms after rain, and a shaggy beard. He looked like a prisoner who had just been released from prison.
He said, it doesn’t matter whether you shave or not, you have to wear a mask anyway. ? Well, what does it matter whether you shave or not? Anyway, the mask already covered half of my face, so I just relied on the energy with my eyes open to do what I still had to do.
When he went out, I felt relieved, as if a stone weighing on my heart was finally lifted.
Looking at myself again, don’t I look like an unkempt and slovenly yellow-faced woman?
I insist on not washing my face, not putting on makeup, insisting on having a dark circle under my eye, insisting on not buying new clothes on Taobao, insisting on eating three meals a day with a symphony of pots and pans, insisting on being a housekeeping aunt, It has been almost two months since I insisted on wearing home clothes and lying on the sofa like a drunken princess, insisting on watching the sunset on the balcony every evening, insisting on listening to the birds chirping every day, and insisting on talking to the moon on moonlit nights. ?
I used to be at home alone most of the time, so I was used to getting along with myself. But for more than a month, a large family has been living together, creating the illusion of happiness.
At first, it seemed good. Mr.
In this 100-square-meter space, we made an indoor vagabond. From the bedroom to the living room, from the living room to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the balcony, from the balcony to the bathroom, from the bathroom to the study room. I feel like a bum pretending to be happy.
Every time I turn around, there are people around me. ?
I feel really depressed and want to escape. But he couldn't just leave. The open world outside has been invisibly blocked by the coronavirus.
Even going downstairs to take out the trash has become a luxury outing.
This special confinement is both voluntary and forced. It cuts off the connection between our bodies and the outside world, cutting off social interactions, dinners, shopping, afternoon tea with best friends, meeting and chatting with friends, and forcing ourselves to look at each other with our family members. ?
But facing so many people, I feel like my heart has nowhere to rest.
When I see my house being torn apart like a pig’s nest, I feel inexplicably irritated; when I think about having to go into the kitchen to cook even when I don’t want to cook, I go crazy; when I think about not being able to calmly read a book, When I write, I feel flustered. When I think about going to bed at 2-3 a.m. and waking up at 12 a.m. every day, I feel frightened. I feel aggrieved when I think about the fear of offending my son’s girlfriend by inappropriate words or deeds.
My son said that they will not start school until early May. Counting on my fingers, there are still two months left. I fell into deep despair.
It’s not that I don’t love him, but I feel like my space and self have been completely deprived of me. No matter how close a relationship is, it cannot be so airtight.
My heart is filled with anxiety.
I am becoming more and more self-loathing and self-hatred.
At this moment, I really can’t hear my inner voice.
I am really looking forward to the online writing class every Tuesday night. That way, I would have a reason to wash my face, put on makeup, and pretend like I was going out to meet people and go shopping.