A cabin for one person. I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night without any warning. Like a ghost, a kind of loneliness quietly grew from the most secret place of the soul and then spread rapidly. It was an indescribable feeling. Just like a shadowless magic hand, it sticks out silently from behind you, grabs you tightly when you are unprepared, then tears you apart and throws you away with ridicule. It takes only a few seconds for this feeling to start from the slightest bit and finally wrap around my whole bag, but it took me an era. I can't move, I can only let it torture me. Before I could resist, it had stripped off the coat of my soul layer by layer, and the fragments in those memories or dreams made me invisible.

It has been cloudy for several days. It was raining in Mao Mao outside the window, and I saw the outside through the wet glass, which was a blur. Rain, especially light rain, is annoying.

People become lazy in rainy days and don't want to do anything.

I leaned against the windowsill and looked out in a daze.

I don't want anything, I don't want anything.

I think we still need to consider some things.

Then think about the stars.

I found that my mind was beginning to get a little confused. Without concrete things, I don't know what I'm thinking, because I can't remember many things. For example, now I miss the stars, but I can't even remember his face, even though I dreamed of him last night. At this time, I only remember the name of the star. In my impression, when I was with the owner of this name, my memories were all happy, but I don't remember anything about the specific happiness.

I haven't studied psychology, but I think I need it.

I need to find a specific thing or object that can stimulate my memory to help me think about the stars, so as to fill the blank in a daze and live up to last night's dream.

I turned on the mp3 player and played a song called "Silly Child" over and over again.

I like children, so I like this song.

Xing is a child, so he likes this song.

I want the stars to sing for me. He sings. Stars sing well, much better than insects. Bug can't sing this song, although he is also a child.

Xing and I sang very well, and we cooperated well.

The worm listens to me, and I listen to the stars. Where are the stars? Who will he listen to?

I suddenly feel like crying. I only have vague memories.

I cried, so I felt tired and fell asleep. Like a child.

When I woke up, the room was dark. Before I remembered, the familiar feeling appeared again. I don't know if this is my unique feeling, because I dare not mention it to anyone.

I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night without any warning. Like a ghost, a kind of loneliness quietly grew from the most secret place of the soul and then spread rapidly. It was an indescribable feeling. Just like a shadowless magic hand, it sticks out silently from behind you, grabs you tightly when you are unprepared, then tears you apart and throws you away with ridicule. It takes only a few seconds for this feeling to start from the slightest bit and finally wrap around my whole bag, but it took me an era. I can't move, I can only let it torture me. Before I could resist, it had stripped off the coat of my soul layer by layer, and the fragments in those memories or dreams made me invisible.

I struggled to get up and turned on the light. I need light. I'm afraid of the dark. I always feel that there is a ghost with blue face and fangs in the dark, watching me anxiously and always ready to eat me.

Soft lighting can't drive away the feeling of fear. I turn on the computer. I know there are many lonely souls on the Internet, who escape from darkness and loneliness like me.

There is a new email in my mailbox, which is from angel fish. Angel fish is one of my two long-term and stable netizens. I never know what he does, except that he travels a lot. But this will not affect our friendship. On the internet, I am even more cautious in making friends than in life, because I don't want to be disturbed by outsiders. I have had enough in life.

I first met Tang Tang in a chat room, which is a very sweet name. It seems that I showed disdain for the lovelorn girl named Kevin that day. In the face of my callous words, Kevin was at a loss, and Tang Tang defended Kevin like a brave soldier.

Now Kevin doesn't know where it is, and Tangtang and I are strangers. I don't believe in the internet, and I actually became a netizen with him.

The fish's letter is very short:

Cancer is nostalgic. Facing the pain of breaking up is like losing something. Especially in the dead of night, it is even more miserable, and it is difficult to get out of the frame of emotional injury. Strength index:

I am a typical cancer girl.

Sugar, I'm afraid, is the only one who knows my feelings for stars.

I don't even know whether I love Xing or not and how much I love her.

Peaceful breakup, indifferent attitude, makes people feel that I am not serious at all. I also convinced myself that I have never been serious about stars. Only in sleepless nights, those short memories will unconsciously come to mind, which will make insomnia more intense.

Sugar lives in a city that is neither too far nor too close to mine. We've never met, and we didn't even think about exchanging phone numbers or photos.

She has the right to know how I really feel.

Sweets: Are you laughing at me? I wrote back.

"I met a star online today. I was careful not to make any noise. Quietly hiding in a corner, watching her proud performance on the online stage. I dare not or don't want to disturb her. These are the rest of her happiness, and I don't want to deprive her of this little happiness so cruelly.

In fact, she can totally ignore me. But she does mind. No matter how we behave in life, we pretend that nothing happened and we are still friends. But on the internet, all she has to do is avoid me. As soon as she discovers my existence, she will immediately stop his improvisation and disappear from the internet. She changed her name and image and tried to leave quickly. "

Sweets once said that I am the kindest boy he knows. She said that my kindness is hidden under the unruly appearance, because no one can protect me, so I can only protect myself carefully. As long as I can get rid of my guard, I can enjoy my kindness with a clear conscience, and I don't have to worry about whether I need to repay you.

Sugar said, Ann, don't call it "stop-and-go". It is a name that makes people feel very contradictory. Renamed it "Angel's Dream". You are as kind as an angel.

I said, sweetheart, this is not good. Stop-and-go is a thought-provoking name. I am nostalgic, so I like it.

Sugar said nostalgia is a kind of self-harm. The past is like a stone, rubbing on the slate of time. The more you think about it, the faster it rubs against time. Until the end, when it can't stop, sparks will come out in the process of generation. Sporadic sparks have extremely high temperatures, and the grinder will eventually be burned by these sparks.

I said, even if I am an angel, this angel only has sad dreams, and this angel is not happy. Really, I'm not happy at all, not at all. This is a crying angel.

So sugar stopped discussing names with me.

Tian Tian is an understanding girl.

What about in life? I still can't help thinking about this question.

I abide by the tacit understanding with sugar in the network. We are just two real and lonely souls living in the network. That's all.

Vivian hasn't written to me for a whole week.

She's broke. Really? I'm not sure. She told me herself. Why? Test me or really?

I don't want to think too much. Vivian gives me a lot of happiness, but she is also empty. Sometimes I can't tell whether she is a reality or a dream. And whether this woman and I are platonic love or something else, I still can't make it clear.

Only when I look at Vivian's photos can I truly tell myself that this person is real. Sometimes, the suspicious other lurking in his heart will unconsciously think, will the photos be synthetic? Or is there no such person in this world?

When I began to think about this problem, my head began to hurt. Maybe something grows in it, or I have a brain disease.

I once dreamed that a dead man asked me to go to her place. I hesitated, but I still didn't take that step.

That was a woman who was once very famous in Chinese mainland. She is a prince in the dance world, a woman with great temperament, and a woman who is said to be devoted to her husband. But I don't think so. I really never thought of it that way.

I met this woman by chance. She came to my city to perform, when I was a temporary reporter for a newspaper. I came to the performance venue and waited for those so-called big names to appear.

The performance was grand, with many wrist stars, crosstalk performers, movie stars, once-popular campus love song singers, and this dancing prince who knew nothing about his serious illness at that time.

Looking at those arrogant wrists makes me sick. They did bring us a lot of laughter on the screen, but off the stage, the way everyone begged me really annoyed me. Only she, the dancing fairy, gave me a smiling look and even said "hello" when she passed me by.

Even though I liked her very, very much from the moment I met her, if I didn't have a smiling look and a "hello" at that time, I was ready to leave with my backpack. In fact, an interview of that nature doesn't mean much to me, and it's equally dispensable to that newspaper. Therefore, her smile and greetings will leave me behind.

We had a pleasant conversation. If she used to attract me by dancing on the screen, I was attracted by her elegant and unfathomable charm in her speech. While waiting, she took out the book she had with her. It was a book about ingenuity. This woman is really different. This difference is inadvertently revealed, not a show.

At that time, no one felt that death had quietly befallen her. I just think she's surprisingly thin. I joked that she looked like a skeleton. That night was her last performance. The day when I left my city was Christmas. A week later, she got the doctor's medical report. The report card accurately shows that she is terminally ill. I didn't know anything until she died.

On New Year's Eve, I think I should bless her. So I pressed the phone number she left me, but no matter how long I dialed, a mechanical female voice always came from the receiver: "The subscriber you dialed is not in GSM service area, please contact me in other ways."

A few months later, my friend in Xi 'an called to tell me that she had left.

I thought it was a joke, but it's true. Because two weeks later, I saw an interview with her husband on the cover of a famous magazine in China. So I spent all my money and bought this book.

Her smile in the book is still subtle and unfathomable. In the interview, I learned that on New Year's Eve, she was treating her terminal illness at a cancer center in a remote town in Xinjiang. There is no GSM signal there.

I cried for the first time for a woman who had seen me once. It suddenly occurred to me that I called her several times before the Chinese New Year. At that time, she already knew her illness, but she didn't show it at all. Her tone on the phone was so calm and gentle that no one would realize that death had gripped her tightly.

I don't remember how long it was, but I had a dream. In an empty meadow, there is a barbed wire between me and her. At the other end of the net, she still smiled like that and called me over. In my dream, I don't remember that she has stood in two worlds with me. I wonder how I can get through this net and reach her. When I was thinking about it, my head began to hurt and I woke up.

I am a person who is easily infected by dreams.

Two worlds ...

two

Whenever I hear the song "At least you", I always think of bugs in a conditioned way. I know that even if one day, the whole world is facing destruction, at least I still have love for insects, and insects will close their eyes in my thoughts and leave happily. Sometimes I feel that Bug and I are just two hedgehogs living in this world. We can't live without each other, but we can't hug each other.

I woke up crying from my dream again.

I have the same dream occasionally. This is a strange dream. Although it doesn't appear very frequently, my mood is easily affected by it, because I always wake up from this dream. In this dream, I am confused, helpless and desperate.

I don't have a girlfriend. Although there are many women around me, I still don't have a girlfriend to rely on. But I will have a dream: the dream is vague. I got married in my dream. But I still have no way to know who the bride is. All I know is that I am in a strange, abandoned room. There are no red lanterns and bedspreads, and there are no people who are laughing and beaming. There is only one vacant room. Everything in the room is so vague that I'm never in the mood to look around. Every time, I stand in front of the window, and the window is blank. I don't see anything, I don't see anything.

I have a very strong idea in my mind that you are married. I began to feel wronged, lost and helpless. I began to cry. Because I want to find someone, a familiar person, who can tell me that I am not married and then take me out of this room.

I don't want to get married, I want to go out. But I can't find the door. I have been wandering around the house, but I still can't find the door.

I feel that I am burdened with a heavy shackle. I want to unload it, but it is invisible and I am almost at a loss.

I think I'm going to die, I'm going to die in a dream.

I cried even more, even screaming. So I woke up.

I woke up crying.

I'm so afraid of getting married that I didn't even think of it myself.

I only told this dream to the bug.

Worms always laugh at me for being stupid.

People always face marriage. Bug said.

Then, my marriage partner is not her. I told myself sadly. Because it took me a long time to understand that the person I was looking for in my dream, the one who took me out of the room, was her.

I've been living in an illusory dream I've woven. I live by dreams. Perhaps my greatest sorrow is that I can't escape the shadow in the depths of my soul, the shadow of a dream.

Sugar heart called me to talk about gossip.

I'm really upset. That's it, my friend. So I don't want friends, although sometimes I want a lot of people to accompany me. But I refuse to be disturbed. I'm so selfish.

I sat patiently, put the receiver between my ears and shoulders, and hummed twice from time to time to tell her that I was listening to her. My eyes didn't leave the computer screen.

I think my best friend should be a computer. It will appear full of energy when I need it, and it is so quiet when I don't want to pay attention, like a considerate lover, giving me free space. Sometimes I think, if there is no computer, I really don't know how to continue my life.

While I was bored playing games, I listened to the voice of Sugar Heart casually. Knock on lonely words. . .

I heard your news today. Sugar heart suddenly lowered its voice mysteriously, and some of it was furtive.

Is it? Sugar heart is used to the weak voice when I answer the phone. It seems that she must interest me.

Do you know that?/You know what? Today, someone asked me if your classmate is beautiful, but there is a lot of lace. Is it true?/You don't say. Do you know the source of this sentence? It's your deskmate, rice noodle girl. A few years after graduation, why is she still speaking ill of you everywhere?

The word "lace" touched me deeply. I turned around from the screen and picked up the microphone with one hand. It has been put on hold for a long time, and my ears hurt a little.

Listen, sweetheart. I don't want to know these things. You know, I've always been particularly jealous of women. There's nothing I can do. Just because I am not handsome, I am a talented person. I used my talent to attract the pursuit of excellent women, but I was unlucky. I haven't found a good woman who is as desirable as them and should be scolded. I know enough. Worse than what you told me. I don't want to hurt myself anymore. If someone asks you these words again, please help me tell them: An An is stupid, An An is lazy and An An has a bad temper. . .

Say it in one breath, but there is a sense of collapse.

Ann, I understand. Ann, don't be angry for these ignorant people. Sugar heart comforts me. Her voice is far away and a little distorted.

Sugar heart, when you meet a rice noodle girl, don't ask her anything Meaningless. Promise me, okay?

Ann has a lot of lace. I have heard this sentence mentioned or asked more than once. What is lace? I don't know the origin of the word lace, and I have never been clear about its meaning. A strange word has been closely intertwined with me for some time, and I don't know why.

My memory is surprisingly poor. I can't remember many things clearly. Sometimes even when I open my eyes from sleep, I can't remember the date of a day, or a certain day of the week, and sometimes I can't even tell whether it is morning or afternoon. I'm just a muddled person who doesn't care about anything.

No matter what happens, even if I tell myself again and again that I must remember, I will forget it in the end. So I don't remember how many girls showed up around me. Because none of that matters to me, I even forgot my first love. Although I failed, it also gave me unforgettable pain for half a year. I still forgot about it. I don't know why my brain is so small

If the first love is immature, then I didn't start a mature relationship until the emergence of bugs.

People who are separated from two cities can walk together. It should be fate, so I believe in fate.

There is a song that I first heard the year I met Bug. I don't remember its name, but two lyrics were accidentally printed in my memory. Maybe this is a hint of fate. I have this idea until now.

If love can't last long, please tell me what fate it is. If love can't be together, please tell me who you love most.

Bug Bug got to know me by listening to my songs in the karaoke bar.

Just out of school, I would rather choose to be a wandering singer, because I think the name "unemployed youth" is too ugly. In order not to embarrass my conservative parents, I went to a ballroom in a neighboring city to sing.

I like singing and insects like listening to songs, so we are madly in love.

Singers are not lifelong careers. With my father's intensive activities, I finally found a job with a much better name than a singer. I must go back to my city. Because I have always neglected that traditional family values are very powerful in my own blood.

That year, I was twenty-one years old and Bug twenty-six.

That year, I still didn't understand the steps of love. Love is just a prelude, followed by marriage and children.

That year, I was a child myself, a child who knew nothing.

I think I am a late bloomer. Or I simply refuse to grow up.

I think long-distance love is a very romantic thing.

Since that year, half of Bug's holidays have been spent on long-distance buses from my city to her city.

I am greedy. Because I feel that I have nothing, I hope I can have everything.

I always let bugs down.

She no longer travels between the two cities. Then, soon, she got married in her city.

Bug, I went on the wedding day.

I had a quarrel with the leader about asking for leave. I told her loudly that I would ask for leave even if she deducted all my salary in January.

In desperation, I went to Worm City.

I happily handed a thick red envelope in the amazing eyes of the bugs.

Bug's good friend Xiao Pi followed me closely.

I still smile, although my face is a little hard.

Pip, do what you have to do. Do not follow me. I'm fine. I'm happy because finally someone can take care of the bugs. I'm really happy. You can rest assured. Leave me alone.

Bug at the wedding smiled mechanically, but his eyes kept glancing in my direction.

I suddenly have an impulse. I want to rush forward, grab the bug tightly and pull her away without saying a word.

But I'm a man.

My body is sitting among a group of laughing people, with an ugly smile on my face.

I had an illusion before my eyes: my soul left my body, stretched out a long, pointed finger, reached into my heart, grabbed a red heart, twisted it bit by bit, twisted it into small pieces, and sprinkled it on the bug and his bride. In the whole process, the soul always has only one expression: ridicule.

I wanted to scream, but Pip stopped me.

I didn't explain anything to my city.

I have an appointment with sweetheart. I didn't explain anything to her either. I just want her to sing with me.

I sang all the songs to Bug that night.

A suffocating emptiness followed me everywhere.

I hope to anesthetize myself with alcohol, but I feel more awake and miserable every time I wake up.

I have to move on with my life. Work has become my only hope. If it weren't for Pi's phone call, I don't know how long my puppet life would last.

Pip said nothing but greetings. But I know that Xiao Pi is just a spokesman for bugs.

I want to hate him, but I can't. I can't bring myself to hate the man I still love. I suddenly remembered the last song "I still love you" sung to Bug. I cried and said to Xiao Pi.

I have no reaction to bug going back and forth between two cities again.

It is a sense of despair from the depths of the soul. A kind of tears gushing from the deepest part of my heart. I can clearly feel my heart twisted bit by bit, tightened bit by bit, and twisted red tears bit by bit.

I held the bug helplessly, and was horrified to find that I couldn't leave my dependence on her and couldn't let go of my emotions.

I wander in despair.

I think I am smart, because I soon found a compromise to deceive myself.

Bug, we can be platonic lovers, right?

The bug froze. Complex eyes swept my face. Yes, I don't know how long it took, but the answer of bug relaxed my nervous mood. So bug, we have a promise never to break through the last line of defense, right?

Bug nodded.

Women are realistic. Bug Bug always knows more than I do. No matter how much we love each other, I am not the right person to be her husband.

I am very satisfied with the company of insects, even if this concern is so far away, I have to pay a high telephone bill every month. But I don't care. I just need to really feel the existence of bugs.

If I were a person living in a dream, I wouldn't deny it, and I don't want to deny it.

I am still singing. When I want to sing. Especially when I miss bugs.

Whenever I hear the song "At least you", I always think of bugs in a conditioned way. I know that even if one day, the whole world is facing destruction, at least I still have love for insects, and insects will close their eyes in my thoughts and leave happily. Sometimes I think that Bug and I are not two hedgehogs living alone in this world. We can't live without each other, but we can't hug each other.

Worms make me despair of love.

I refuse love.

My life does not allow me to refuse love, so I want to fall in love, even if it is loveless love.

. . .