Love autism - and with the days of Prokofiev（六）

Many years later now, on the above scene made a re-check and list, I told myself: I am too poor at that time, I was too poor to no pretty face, there is no outstanding talent, in addition to using silent as to cover as one of the desolate iron in addition, I also have an shiny Title: Love autism. I can only ridicule or silence, that silence, such as iron, so still even dust all the days of yo sound was completely mine, and repair, grinding my mind, it is the only way to cover up the desolation and helpless, in the satire and silence, I forget whether there are other details from the world. So, I 普罗科菲耶 Mufti asked: "What is carry on your shoulders?"

More breeze blowing over the land in our faces on the young. Prokofiev know that I continue to taunt him, so he deliberately and with me. I do not know why, minimalist life gives me a lot of inferiority and regret, they have accumulated in his chest was a long time, the heavy, and finally into a kind of sarcasm or silence all the time, used to resolve this small way, those who support without all the self-Hua Shiguang. I put his shoulder down to a cello back something like, scissors-line head wear, or to discredit his art for the most substances, the most mundane things, I quiet down. I have numerous times in the safest time lonely think of him terribly for those gentle words, also more than once burst into tears in the soul Prokofiev sorry: "I'm sorry, sorry ... ... I have been so, not because there is no love, I just refused to verify, refuse to face with all the emotion. "

Refusal to face with all emotions, these words sound so confused and contradictory, that summer, I was really in love, why is this sentence in a long time, or into no relief. Perhaps, I receive only the content of the surface, I am not quite sure at that time a man love a woman how to love where one level is really positive and have. From the early summer and summer, I had several dizzy, beating several times when being hugged into rapid breathing, there is very Yehao feel can be further in the coming several times to accept some deep content, I thus have been interrupted. I was walking in the sun that was shining the stars hit the head of the lucky ones, love autism, it is heavy fell on my head, my scalp felt tight for a while, thinking about a strange forces would infringe my transparent and pure, I will strive to resistance, then resistance, until gradually disappointed Prokofiev.

Thus, the breeding of a dialogue on it.

: "As a short night."

: "Dream as long."

: "Dream, where are you?"

: "I'm on board. No, I was a boat."

: "Quiet in the float."

: "Yes."

: "Gone with the Wind tired, to shore."

: "I did not coast."

: "Yes."

: "No."

: "Yes."
... ...

Prokofiev after breaking up with the days, I arrived in the illusion over and over again, also left over and over again, as the pain of eternal life. I saw the moonlight, like water, trembling slightly into the body, as gently as drip infiltration, I float, where the strength to move forward with the wind, or backward, but all the points are close to dark, there is no bridge, there is no shore. This awareness, once formed, would be crazy thoughts, I try so hard to stop, docile acceptance of a bridge or the shore, I did not, then no, do not and will never be. I am immersed in the water like a match, there is no sun, no guidelines, no friction, I can not burn.

So I Fengliaoyiban on Prokofiev angry: "I do not love, do not, in the past do not, not now, nor the future!" I cry to: "You go, can go far on how far Do not let me see you, you do not go, I'll disappear! "Prokofiev for the first time the tears flow as clear and transparent as the dew in the morning glow, pure white. He hugged me, while calling: "My little poor you, poor little poor ... ... I'll show you a doctor, you must promise me request to see a doctor." And breath, my Spirit has been close to trance ... ... "my little poor you, poor little poor ... ..." This phrase rang in my ears for many years, no, not if, it was a voice is the voice of the cello, and as I said: the first part of my youth was spent in the cello sound. Lower half of youth, I am doomed to continue in the cello sound. Many years, I keep and meet some people, they keep breaking up with some people, I do not know of my love in the end is. Maybe a little child had autistic state, but had no one cares, No one is more concerned about the moment that young to breed a small inner seed, a little faint light, will one day become a unique resistance. Resistance to love, I put myself in the summer of red soup, my heart, so wet.