He Kidnapped Himself
Ⅰ
You fear you can't stop yourself.
He walked at a steady pace, head down. He looked a bit odd—each step seemed to stomp the ground, and he appeared to be muttering to himself, angry but almost on the verge of tears, like a sulking teenager.
—Yes, he was a sulking teenager. More precisely, he was a sulking child. After all, he had been facing some things for a long time.
You fear you won't be stopped. That's your wish—every time you're walking on the road, you hope to be intercepted. Yet, like fearing punishment, you always walk quickly. You wish the passersby could understand your feelings from your muttering, but that's too dangerous—you are a child, and this would get you scolded.
But, why not just leave? You know, just not go home, stay somewhere, be fed by others—anything to avoid school. Then, go to college? You guess. After all, college is much more loose, and your grades are good enough to get in; you really don't understand why the adults keep pushing you.
Of course, you know the reason. They want you to be better. Things generally fall into that category.
But, why not just leave?
This is almost a good question because you seem to feel not just that you can't do this, not just for food and shelter, but you don't dare to—you would be punished, and that makes you feel ashamed, and the punishment is too painful.
But, it's a stupid question. Of course, you want to leave.
Why didn't you steal him back earlier? He is still angry about this matter.
Ⅱ
You run faster and faster on your way to find him, angry at yourself for not doing it a few days earlier. You almost sprint to the school gate—in the morning, of course. You wouldn't put this off until the evening. This matter can't be delayed.
He immediately followed you. He almost dragged you running, running into the bushes halfway to school. He jumped up, stomping on the ground, shouting:
“Ah—, ah———”
Then, he cried. He cried on you.
He seemed to want to hide behind you, almost hoping your body could envelop him. He feared being discovered and then punished.
But, he jumped up again, stomped on the ground, and continued shouting:
“Ah—, ah———, I'm leaving———”
You held him all the way back. He came with you to your place, the computer screen showing Windows' automatic update, indifferent to the situation.
Ⅲ
He only talked to you for three hours before your phone distracted him. It didn't seem like a suffering person. Of course, you were the same.
He hugged you while sleeping. This wasn't even his wish. He had already left school; he wouldn't be scolded or punished anymore. Nothing important remained.
But, for fun, you still hugged each other. He chattered on about what happened to him, his anger, and how he believed things should be. He told you about his shame and his vulnerability to words. And, he lived in fear every day. He snuggled against you, telling you he wanted freedom, or just to cry. You held him, reassuring him that he had already left, and he would be okay.
You lived together from then on. This didn't end with him messing up and then being reborn, nor with him returning to his parents. You merely lived together from then on.
I tightened my grip on your arm. I faced an utterly insignificant question, which had been of utmost importance the previous day and the days before: why didn’t I run away. Despite your repeated assurances and the fact that you were holding me tight, I still clung to you. I would never lose this chance to leave.
Although he was forced into speech and felt pained by it, the taxi driver silently drove. Although he fantasized about people treating him differently, the train station and everything were the same. Since that moment yesterday, this too was of no significance.
You held onto my arm. I gently pressed against you, reassuring you again and telling you I felt the question, even though it was now irrelevant.
We arrived. I clumsily climbed out of the taxi, watching you climb out with a bit more grace due to your reduced mental clutter. I stayed slightly hidden beneath you, glancing around anxiously to avoid being taken back. Quickly choose a less crowded path to the ticket office and catch a train to leave.
Of course. We each selected less crowded places, pulling each other like the ends of a spring, understanding each other’s thoughts without speaking. I knew more than this, but I worried that this understanding might still be insufficient. At best, I was merely the second person in the world to understand you.
They reached the ticket counter, holding tightly to each other in the crowd, pretending to be normal while buying two tickets and choosing a spot away from others to sit.
“There are still people in the world who either discipline you or don’t care about you. They are wrong.” I watched you as you watched the crowd.
I had already guessed this would be what you would say to me, but I could only stare blankly at the crowd. “Well. They—the parents, I mean—they fed me, and now you will feed me.”
“I will feed you. They should have fed you, but from now on, I will.” I knew you would respond with an acknowledgment, enduring your thoughts in silence.
“Hmm.” I endured my thoughts, remained silent, leaning against you.
This thought was merely a distraction; after all, it had left yesterday.
I looked at you, lost in thought. This was the first time in your life you were able to think so easily. You stared blankly, fiddled with your phone, and stared blankly again. I rested my head on your shoulder, waiting for you to say what you needed to.
“How have you been lately?”
“I’m fine. Don’t ask. From now on, you will be with me, and everything will be as you wish. Although it doesn’t matter, I will hold you and listen to you, just like last night. If you allow, I will help you express yourself, even though you are much better at it than I am.”
“Finding the words I want to use is easy. That part is the simplest.”
“Of course.” I took my head off your shoulder, resting on your arm, trying to express some things that were hard to articulate in a few words. I looked at you gently, trying to emphasize my non-judgment of you.
“You came very late. You should have come a long time ago. You should have come much earlier.” I emphasized this while crying at you.
“I’m sorry.”
Their tears fell on the other person. He looked at the people around, just crying.
I listened to your heartbeat. You had turned your breath away from me. I felt my body’s presence, and yours surrounding me. I thought in this corner.
“You have a beautiful soul. People certainly shouldn’t discipline you. But you have a beautiful soul.”
I said nothing, continuing to think. If anyone had the right to judge, perhaps it would be you? Because you took me away, as for whether you are me or not, it was inconsequential.
I took satisfaction in your silence. I feared you might think I saw you as a child deserving freedom only because of your beautiful soul, or just feel judged. Indeed, you knew my views and stance, and responded with silence.
The train will start ticket inspection in 20 minutes.
The train will depart in a bit over 20 minutes.
We have more than 20 minutes to board. I stood up and said to you, “I’m going to the restroom.”
You looked at me with almost gentle eyes. I stood up, not mentioning what I was going to do, and simply followed you.
Turning around, I saw another group of bad people and their laboriously erected, more or less ornate signs saying “Restroom.” I dared only a quick glance before looking down at the similarly laboriously produced ornate tiles beneath my feet, avoiding the various other things in the station hall, heading towards the restroom.
“Seeing things makes you feel ashamed compared to the effort of those who created them. You spent much time trying to comfort yourself, feeling relatively some less shame at the tiles. The tiles are the main thing you see while outside.” Using “feel” rather than “sense” considers your thinking process; “much time” rather than “a long time” reflects that comforting yourself is the easier part of your life; “relatively” is due to the depth of your shame; and “some less” rather than “a little less” or none is because I don’t want to downplay any part of your pains in life…
“You didn’t find a word that I’d rather use than ‘shame.’” I glanced at you.
“I’m sorry.” You came close to me. I don’t deserve the depth of your tears, but you certainly deserve me.
The other side behind the concrete is not visible from outside. The train station is as splendid as a church.
We arrived at the restroom door. I was dissatisfied with temporarily leaving you.
“I also need to use the restroom.”
Water droplets slid down our arms as we left together. I focused my sight on you, avoiding other things. “To the ticket-checking place?” I asked, feeling too lazy to think.
“The ticket-checking place feels a bit safer than the waiting room… I’m not sure if it is…”
I took the plastic bag from your hand and carried it.
You moved toward the ticket-checking place with the same motion. I watched you and the surroundings, staying close to you. “I don’t like train stations or trains. The knowledge used to create them includes elements forced on children, which I resent.”
“I don’t like people.”
“Hmm. Of course.” I thought about how we would have to use them to return, feeling uneasy and angry. You are more familiar with this, and you live a life that faces punishment. I gently touched you, trying to comfort you. Tears formed in your eyes. “You don’t need to argue. I know, I know…”
“Of course, I don’t need to argue with you. How should I argue with others?” I no longer feared punishment, so I chose to speak with pain, anger, and sharpness, waving my vulnerability and with unease, still as if afraid of punishment. I looked at you as if you could beat up those who tried to punish me.
Then, you started to cry a little. Your affectionate tears weakly showed your love for me. “Do you allow me to say ‘you should be allowed’ to you?”
“I’ll teach you. I’m going to bury myself in your belly.”
This was physically impossible; you lay on my shoulder.
“Say with me, I should be allowed.”
“You should be allowed.”
“‘Punishing you is immoral.’”
“Punishing you is immoral.”
I became anxious, as if afraid someone might appear to criticize my vulnerability or to elevate and punish me. I was in the train station, surrounded by people, which mean treacherous people, fraught with danger.
I was at a loss. Embracing each other at the train station wasn’t something that would attract attention, and accusations of being “sexually immoral” wouldn’t punch at any of your vague or real part of discontent. However, I felt uneasy and tried to match your unease, even though what I was enduring was less than a tenth of what you bore, and what you bore was less than a thousandth of what you endured on some day before yesterday—2 numbers engineeringly precise. I defensively said and tried to tell you, “I don’t think your crying at yourself affects that others should go to hell.”
“Would you think otherwise?”
If you allow me to admire you, I would say I admire your grim laugh of helplessness when you said those four words, which happened to happen while you were crying on my body.
I glanced, and there were still people slowly moving towards the ticket-checking place.
But you didn’t show any signs of urgency. You continued lying on my shoulder, and sometimes I glanced at the clock, and sometimes you did as well.
The clock was an LED display, also used elsewhere.
Motivational slogans posted by the government.
Motivational slogans hung by the school.
These were things that made one feel scolded.
And lists of latecomers and other offenders.
Nearby was the “ordinary” clock, themed around some math problems.
It was hung on the wall next to the blackboard.
The teacher punished those who looked at it too frequently.
Does it also include the teacher’s phone that served as evidence for punishing latecomers?
I thought about how these things happened to you and felt like throwing up. I hugged you more tightly. But ultimately, I was just holding you here, without being able to hurt other people.
It should be said that this is a sad and angering situation.
The ticket-checking place was empty.
I no longer squeezed into you.
You slowly, appearing indifferent, vaguely felt no need to make any particular gesture as you walked in, made no sound, walking up the steps as casually as if going on a train trip, entering the train, holding my weak hand with one hand, in a way that allowed my finger joints to avoid each other, yet still as if marking my hand with your grip, pulling me onto the train.
I scrutinized you, who, more or less like me, avoided looking at the ornate things, just occasionally glancing at the train seat number signs.
I realized I shouldn't focus on this, then scanning the signs on both sides to get a general idea of where our train seats were, and then I looked at you, noticing that you were observing me, and then was not so much with a hint of excitement but with a desire to be close to you.
“You’re still you.”
“I’m late” I said to you quietly, breathlessly, without a period.
We casually pushed against each other, being pulled by each other in a way we'd never experienced before, squeezing into the train seats, pressed against each other's bodies.
I saw you subtly raised your head, though not really looking down, but subtly looking down at me.
“Just for a few hours, and you’ll still on your phone?” After I questioned, jokingly and ironically, I quickly looked at you softly, towards someone who naturally wouldn’t care about this matter.
“Of course, it should be said that it would be unnecessary.” “Of course, it should be said that it would be unnecessary.”
I did open the voice recorder on my phone, intending to document our unceasing conversation. You didn't record much of the pain you felt; it was a very difficult question to answer.
One attempt to answer this question is that the recordings you made won't become effective accusations in the eyes of others, but rather evidence of scolding me and reasons for disciplining me. But why didn't I even try? Although indeed, I tried time and again to talk with my parents (and others) and failed repeatedly; the school's punishments, threats, and reprimands seem to make even private dissent impossible, or at least limit it to complaints to strong and indifferent peers, leaving it unrecorded. But why didn't I even try?
You stared intently at the recording phone, and I knew you were emotionally agitated. You should have shouted loudly, questioning the crowd and getting support for your viewpoint. If you indulged my disrespect and allowed me to speak inaccurately and incompletely, you would be mourning and angry for not having fought back with full effort, despite clearly opposing from the very first day and minute of this matter, and feeling genuine pain.
I decided to press my head against your body. I don’t think this can be said to be me seeking your approval, even though you are perhaps the only person in this world who might have a bit of a right to be used by me like this, but it’s more like a symbol of you protecting me from discipline and punishment. This is far from what the word "protection" can express; I’m leaving!
I tried to dive into your heart to face, together with you, the thousands or even more things you are being forced to confront, the years of constraints and punishments, and the seconds within them, one second after another, not to mention that I must completely remove you from your life, but I came too late, too late, too late. Now, we must leave immediately; this matter cannot be delayed—
That train hesitated to depart, but fortunately, it would not stop.
他偷走了他自己
Ⅰ
你害怕拦不到你自己。
他走得不慢，而且低着头。样子有些奇怪——每一步几乎是跺在地上，嘴里似乎是在自言自语，愤怒但几乎是要哭出来一样，像一个闷闷不乐的青少年。
——是的，他是一个闷闷不乐的青少年。确切地说，他是一个闷闷不乐的孩子。毕竟，他已经面对一些事很久了。
你害怕自己没能被拦到。那是你的愿望——每次走在路上的时候，你都希望被截走。然而，如同害怕被惩罚一般，你却总是走得很快。你希望路上的行人能从你的默念中理解你的感觉，但这太危险了——你是个孩子，这是要被训斥的。
但是，为什么不只是离开？你知道，只是不回家，住在什么地方，被其他的人喂——总之是不用去学校了。然后，去上大学吧？你猜到。毕竟大学宽松得多，你的成绩也没有什么不能去的，你真的不知道那些成年人为什么还要继续逼迫你。
你当然知道原因。他们想让你更好。事情大体上属于此类。
但是，为什么不只是离开？
这几乎是一个好问题，因为你似乎感到自己不只是不能这样做，不只是为了食物和住处，而且是不敢这样做——你会被惩罚的，那让你感到羞愧，而且惩罚太痛苦了。
但是，这是一个蠢问题。你当然想离开。
你为什么不早些把他偷回去？他至今为此气愤。
Ⅱ
你在去找他的路上越跑越快，为自己没能提前几天感到生气。你几乎是冲刺到学校的大门——在早上，当然。你不会把此事推迟到晚上。此事不可拖延。
他立即跟你走了。他几乎是拽着你跑，跑到去学校要经过的灌木丛里。他跳了起来，猛地躲在地上，呼喊着：
啊——，啊————
然后，他哭了。他哭在你的身上。
他又似乎是想躲在你的身后，几乎是希望你的身体能围绕着他。他害怕被发现，然后被惩罚。
但是，他又跳了起来，跺在地上，继续喊着：
啊——，啊————，我离开啦————
你在带他回去的路上一直抱着他。他和你到了你的住处，电脑屏幕上是Windows的自动更新，竟然对此事没有两样。
Ⅲ
他只和你谈论了三个小时，就被你的手机分心了。这似乎并不像一个受苦的人。当然，你和他也一样。
他抱着你睡觉。这甚至算不上他的愿望。他已经离开学校了，他不会被训斥和惩罚了。再也没有什么重要的事了。
但是，为了好玩，你们还是抱在一起。他喋喋不休地告诉你什么发生在了他的身上，他的愤怒，以及他相信事情应当如何。他告诉你，他的羞耻感和对话语的脆弱。以及，他每天都生活在恐惧之中。他依偎在你的身体上，告诉你他想要自由，或者只是哭。你抱着他，向他保证，他已经离开了，他会没事的。
你们在一起生活了下去。此事并没有以他搞砸了自己然后重生结束，也没有以他回到了家长身旁结束。你们只是在一起生活了下去。
我抓紧了你的胳膊。我面对着一个极其无关紧要的质问，它在昨天以及再之前的那些天里是极其重要的问题：我为什么不逃走。尽管你再三向我保证，而且你在抓紧着我，我仍然抓紧了你。我绝不会失去这个离开的机会。
尽管他被迫处在话语之下，并对此感到痛苦，出租车司机沉默地开车。尽管他幻想人们不同地对待他，火车站以及一切竟没有什么两样。从昨天的那个时刻起，这当然也是无关紧要的事。
你抓紧了我的胳膊。我轻轻地按了按你，再次向你保证，并告诉你我感到了那个质问，尽管那现在无关紧要。
到了。我笨拙地爬出了出租车，看着你因为少了些思绪不那么笨拙地笨拙地爬出了出租车。我稍微躲在你的身下，瞥视周围的情况，怕被抢回去。赶紧选一条人少的路径，去售票处，坐火车离开。
当然。我们各自挑选着人少的地方，像弹簧的两端一样忽悠悠地互相拽着，不说什么就知道对方的想法。我知道的当然不只此事，但我担忧这种理解仍然不足。在最幸运的情况下，我只不过是世上第二理解你的人。
他们到了售票处门口，在人群中紧紧抓在一起，装作正常的样子买了两张票，挑了一个远离别人的地方坐着。
“世上仍然充斥着要么管教你，要么不关心的人。他们是错的。”我看着你看着人群。
我早已猜到这是你会对我说的话，但我只能看着人群发呆。“嗯。他们——家长，我是说——他们喂我，现在你会喂我了。”
“我会喂你。他们应该喂你，但接下来，我会喂你。”我知道你会嗯一声，承受着思绪，沉默。
“嗯。”我承受着思绪，沉默，靠在你的身上。
这思绪当然只是消遣，他毕竟在昨天离开了。
我看着你，发呆，思索事情。这是你一辈子里第一次轻松地思索事情。你发一会儿呆，玩弄一会儿手机，又发一会儿呆。我把头放在你的肩膀上，等着你要告诉我的话语。
“你最近怎么样？”
“我很好。别问了。从现在起，你会跟我在一起，一切如你的意愿一样。虽然这不重要，但我会抱着你听你说话，像昨天晚上一样。如果你允许的话，我会帮着你把话说出来，尽管你远比我擅长此事。”
“找到我想用来表达的话语很容易。这是最容易的那部分。”
“当然。”我把头从你的肩膀上拿下来，靠在你的胳膊上，尝试表达一些三言两语不好表达的事。我用柔和的目光看着你，尽可能强调着我对你的不评判。
“你来晚了很多。你应该早很久来。你早就应该来了。”我边冲着你哭边强调此事。
“我很抱歉。”
他们的泪水流在另一个人的身上。他看着旁边的人，只是哭。
我听着你的心跳。你把你的呼吸避开了我。我感知着我的身体的存在，还有你的身体环绕着我。我在这个角落里想事儿。
“你有美丽的心灵。人们当然无论如何都不应该管教你。但是，你有美丽的心灵。”
我没有说什么，继续想着事情。如果存在任何人有权利评价的话，那或许会是你？因为你带我逃走了，至于你是不是我倒是无足轻重的。
我为你的沉默而沾沾自喜。我害怕你感到我是因为你心灵的美丽才觉得你是个值得自由的孩子，或者只是感到被评判。果然，你知道我的观点和立场，于是报以沉默。
列车将在20分钟之后开始检票。
火车会在20多分钟之后开走。
我们还有20多分钟的时间上车。我起身，看着你说：“上厕所。”
你用几乎温和的目光看着我说。我起身，没有说我去是干什么，只是跟着你。
转身看到的是另一群糟糕的人，还有他们勤劳地树立的或多或少华丽的写着“卫生间”的牌子，我只敢瞥一眼，然后低下头，看着脚下同样作为人们的劳动成果的华丽的瓷砖，目光避开车站大厅里各种各样其他的东西，向着卫生间的方向寻路而去。
“看到东西让你觉得与创造它们的人的那些努力相比的羞耻。你花了很长时间试图安慰自己，看到地砖后的羞耻相对少一些。地砖是你走在外面最主要看的东西。”此处用“觉得”而非“感到”，是考虑到这个过程中你的思索；“很长时间”而非“很久”，是考虑到安慰自己是你生活中容易的那部分；“相对”一词，是考虑到你的羞耻之深；少得是“一些”而非“一点”或全部，是考虑到我不想把你这生活中的任何一部分痛苦说得轻微……
“你没找到与‘羞耻’比，我更想用的词。”我瞥着你。
“我很抱歉。”你靠近我的身体。我不值得你眼里泪水的深情，但你当然值得我。
在外面看不到混凝土的另一侧。火车站富丽堂皇得像教堂。
我们到了门口。我不满意于暂时离开你。
“我正好也想上厕所。”
水滴在我们的胳膊上滑动，我们一起离开。我把目光集中于你，避开其他的东西。“去检票的地方吗？”我懒得思考，只是问你。
“检票的地方感觉比候车室安全一点……我也不知道是不是……”
我扯过你手里的塑料袋，拎着。
你以同样的动作往那里走。我注视着你和周围情况，靠近你。“我不喜欢火车站，还有火车。我想到生产它们所用的知识包含着孩子被强迫而得到的部分，就感到怨恨。”
“我不喜欢人们。”
“嗯。当然。”我想到我们得利用它们回去，有些不安和愤怒。你比我更熟悉此事，况且你过着一个会被惩罚的生活。我轻轻地抚摸着你，想让你感到安心一点。你的眼里又有泪水。“你不用争辩什么，我知道，我知道……”
“我当然不用冲着你争辩什么。你觉得我应该怎么向别人争辩呢？”我终于不必害怕被惩罚了，于是这样选择：我声音痛苦、愤怒、犀利，向你挥舞着我的脆弱，不安，仍然仿佛害怕被惩罚。我盯着你，仿佛你能把那些试图惩罚我的人揍一顿。
然后，你有点哭了。你深情的泪水脆弱地爱我。“你允许我对你说‘你应该被允许’这几个字吗？”
“我来教你。我要把我埋在你的肚子里。”
这在物理上做不到；你趴在我的肩膀上。
“跟着我说，我应该被允许。”
“你应该被允许。”
“‘惩罚你是不道德的。’”
“惩罚你是不道德的。”
我变得不安，仿佛害怕有人冒出来批判我的脆弱，或者要提升我，惩罚我。我身处火车站，周围是一群人，因而是阴险的一群人，危机四伏。
我不知所措。一个人在火车站抱着另一个人并非什么会引起注意的事，“有伤风化”的指控也不会揍到什么模糊或真实，而又心怀不满的地方。但是，我也感到不安，并试图像你一样不安，尽管我此刻所承受的不及你所承受的十分之一，你所承受的又不及你昨天之前所承受的千分之一，而这是工程上精确的两个数字。我防御性地说，也试着对你说：“我不认为你冲着你自己哭影响别人的该死。”
“你说呢？”
如果你允许我敬仰你，我敬仰你说这三个字时无奈愤慨的冷笑，这恰好是在你趴在我的身上哭泣的期间。
我瞄了一眼，检票的地方还有人在慢慢前进。
但你没有表现出着急。你继续趴在我的身上，我有时瞄一眼钟，你有时也瞄一眼钟。
那钟是LED显示屏，那东西也用在别的地方。
政府张贴的励志标语。
学校悬挂的励志标语。
那是让人感到被训斥的事物。
还有迟到者和其他犯错的人的名单。
旁边的“普通”的钟，是一些数学题的主题。
它被挂在黑板旁的墙上。
老师惩罚过于频繁地看它的人。
它还是老师的手机是审判迟到者的证据？
我想到这些事发生在你的身上，感觉要吐了一样。我更用力地把你抱在我的身上。但是，我最终只是在这里抱你，而没能伤害他们。
应当说，这是令人悲伤而愤怒的事。
检票的地方没有人了。
我不再挤在你的身上。
你慢慢地，看起来漫不经心地，模糊地觉得没有必要表达什么姿态地走了进去，没有发出什么声音，几乎像去乘火车出游一样随意地走上台阶，进入火车，一只手拽着我软弱的手，以一种允许我手指的关节彼此避开的方式，仍然要把我的手攥出印记一样，把我牵进火车。
我审视着你，你或多或少地像我一样，视线避开华丽的东西，只是一下下地瞥着火车座位号的标牌。
我意识到我不应专注于此，把视线扫过标牌在两侧的两行，了解了火车座位大致在哪儿，然后注视着你，注意到你在审视着我，与其说感到了一丁点激动，不如说是亲近你的愿望。
“你还是你。”
“我来晚了”我向你渺小地说，气息微弱，没有句号。
我们随意地推着彼此的身体，以从未有过的方式被彼此牵引着，挤到了火车座位里，挤在彼此的身体上。
我疑惑地看到你微妙地抬起了头，尽管并不真的向下，但微妙地向下看着我。
“就这么几个小时，还看手机吗？”我开玩笑地，冷笑着说完了，赶紧又柔和地看着你，冲着自然不会在意此事的人。
“实属没有必要吧。”“实属没有必要吧。”
我倒是点开了手机里的录音机，打算记录下我们不会停歇的谈话。你并没有记录下很多你感到的痛苦；这是一个极不好回答的质问。
对这个质问的一个部分上回答的尝试是，你记录下的不会在人们的眼中成为有效的控诉，而是责骂我的证据和管教我的理由。但是，我为什么甚至不尝试？虽说的确，我一次次尝试与家长（以及别人）交谈，然后一次次失败；学校的惩罚、威胁和训斥，似乎让哪怕是私下里的反对的话语也显得不可能，或多或少地使它限于向那些坚强而不在意的同辈的抱怨，流于未被记录：但是，我为什么甚至不尝试？
你凝重地盯着录音的手机，我知道你心里情绪激动。你应该大声叫喊，人群也被你冲着质问，并得到支持你的观念的结论。若你纵容我对你的不敬，且容许我不准确且不完整地说，你在为你没有尽全力反抗感到哀悼和愤怒，而你明明从此事的最开始的那一天和那一分钟就鲜明地反对，并感到真切的痛苦。
我决定把头挤在你的身体上。我不认为这可以说是我在向你寻求认同，尽管你是这世上唯一或许有一丁点的资格被我这样利用的人，但这更像是就帮我逃离管教和惩罚一事上，你保护我的象征。这远远并非“保护”这个词所能表达的；我离开了！
我试图钻进你的心里同你一起面对，面对那一千或两千，还有比那多得多的你正在被迫面对的东西，还有约束和惩罚下的一年又一年，还有那当中的一秒啊，一秒，又一秒的时间，更不必提我必须带你彻底离开你的生活，但我来得太晚，太晚太晚。现在，我们必须立即离开，此事不可拖延——
那火车迟疑地开走了，所幸它不会停下来。