Wen | Jiang Wanru
Edited | Tao Ruogu
"They always only care about money, fame, status, no one cares if you are happy, happy, I feel so stressed." 」 No love, no money, no motivation to live, no future. /
And now the art that I am struggling to pursue now seems to be a joke, if I can make more money from my works, maybe I can change my life, but I'm sorry, I didn't, I couldn't change. ”
(Excerpt from Dawson Lu's suicide note)
To Deer Dawson:
But I'm really unhappy, and death is a relief for me.
Hopefully, there will be no more unhappy children in the original family in this world.
—— Li Shu, 25 years old, a rural girl who works as an editor
On the day I brushed up on the fawn news, I curled up on the couch reading his suicide note and cried. My cat had never seen me like this, and he was stunned. Later, whenever I felt "about to die", I would go to Xiaolu's Weibo, and before "knowing" him, these words were held in my heart, afraid of being pitied, afraid of being comforted, and afraid of being said to be pretentious. I didn't dare to sync the message to my homepage, and I didn't want to be seen by my cousin who was in graduate school. Some strangers will comfort me with what "the world is good", and I think those words are empty.
I am 25 years old, the age when the fawn left this world. Maybe the harm of the original family will be highlighted at this age, poverty, lack of love, low education, unsuccessful career, forced marriage... It's all interlocking. But Fawn went to college and started higher than me, and if I were him, maybe I would stick with it a little longer.
I was born in '96 to my father as an English teacher and my mother to a worker in a state-owned textile factory. Mom dressed fashionably, not willing to spend her life in the countryside, wanted a city hukou. She earned more than my dad and had a mild temper. The two of them were introduced to each other by a blind date, when Grandpa's farmland was to be confiscated, and the mother could keep it when she married, and the man urged him to hurry up and get married. This year, I also lamented to my grandmother, "For a piece of land, I married him."
I was born the second year of marriage. That year, the factory laid off a lot of employees, her mother also lost her job, and perhaps there were reasons for postpartum depression, and she was like a changed person. Her grandparents would scold her with ugly words, and her father began to be violent to her. My aunt told me that I had seen my father drag my mother off the tricycle and beat her up in front of the whole village. Another time, the aunt saw through the crack in the door that her mother was hiding in the hall to burn wedding photos.
In '99, they divorced, and Mom didn't want anything but me. But she soon remarried again, and I suppose, according to her character, she should be reluctant, but in the countryside, it seems that a woman cannot afford not to get married. She moved far away, and I lived with my grandmother.
I had only a vague impression of my mother. Once at my uncle's house, she chased me to feed me; once, on her way home from school, she suddenly appeared from the corner where she was hiding and gave me an orange. I ate it and it didn't feel anything special.
Until the winter of 2005, when I was 9 years old, my grandmother said that she had not seen my mother for a long time, bought something to visit her, knocked on the door for half a day, and no one answered. A neighbor knocked the door open, and my grandmother saw my mother foaming and falling to the ground. The remarried husband went out to work, and no one knew what she had experienced. She didn't leave a word for the world or for me.
I had a good time in elementary school, I had good grades in the liberal arts, and I won a prize in a national essay competition. The students don't know my family's affairs, but every time they apply for poverty allowance, others will fill in the form who is the father, who the mother is, I don't know who to fill in, sometimes fill in the father's strange name, sometimes fill in the uncle, try to fool the past.
Every day to and from school, to go through the "CBD" in the village, there is always a group of big mothers who think that I have gone far, and they point out behind my back, "This little girl has no mother", I can hear it clearly. At that time, I felt very inferior and tried to go around that road as much as possible.
● Infographic, derived from Visual China.
The real nightmare began at the age of 12. My father would occasionally come to school and send some cotton gloves and other gadgets, and one afternoon he would come directly to my class and carry me to the van, and I was scared, but I did not speak, knowing that I could not break free.
My grandmother went to school that day and learned that I had been picked up by my father and said, "Then follow him." Grandma's family is particularly poor, growing corn and wheat, selling for almost a thousand yuan a year, and can only eat some porridge for three meals, no meat. She married her grandfather in order to have enough to eat, and as a result, her grandfather was deceived into business and jumped into a well to die, and later her mother died again. I couldn't bear to be alone with her, and I always wanted to come back to her.
My father later said that he didn't want to pay 8 yuan a day for child support, so he took me back. His new wife was a powerful woman, and before she got married, she said, "I'm not like your eldest daughter-in-law, take a soft persimmon and pinch it." My father was afraid of her. I cried all night that day, and I always felt in my heart that forcibly "stealing" without consulting with me was very disrespectful to me, so I refused to call the woman "Mom" according to my father's wishes.
One day my father asked me to recite "Bu Suanzi Yongmei", but I refused, so he grabbed me by the hair and pressed his head on the cold ground and beat me. Later, I tried not to be in the same room as my father, hiding from him and not talking to him. Every day in the middle of the night, I would check whether the gate was locked and try to follow the road I remembered and escape back to my grandmother's house. When I had nothing to do, I took a knife and went to cut the big poplar tree in the yard, and with one knife and one knife, the tree finally died. Because I was "too rebellious", my stepmother threw me to my grandmother's house.
My whole life is tied to the interests of my loved ones, who see only money. My birth was related to "a piece of land"; I was forcibly dragged to my father's side in order to save child support; and because money was not given to school, I changed the trajectory of my destiny.
When I was in the middle school entrance examination, I was admitted to high school and told my father that I wanted to go to school, and the tuition fee was 3,000 yuan. The money is in the hands of your stepmother, who said, "You don't even shout at your mother, and you expect people to give you money." My aunt discussed with my aunt that the family paid half of the tuition, and my aunt said that whoever let her go to school paid for it. Grandma also said that girls should not go to school. No one felt they should help me with this step.
I was the only one in the class who didn't go to school. After that, my father took me to get an ID card, and in order not to be fined by the family planning policy, the home address column was filled in with a non-existent place.
I went to work in other places, worked as a warehouseman in Dongguan Electronics Factory, and later went to restaurants to serve dishes. On the days of part-time work, I was incompatible with the aunts around me who liked to talk about the short aunts in the parents and the peers who were waiting to get married and have children, and I vaguely felt that I had my own things to do. When I was a child, I liked a singer because of his natural affinity with words, and I wanted to enter the media industry and get close to the starlight.
I used the money I earned from part-time work to buy a computer, first learned design, then taught myself a little editing, and then went to Zhengzhou to cut short videos for new media companies, billed by bar, and did not sign a contract.
Party A is very picky, a group of materials about 10 videos with more than 1 minute, requiring them to be cut within 2-3 days, and more modifications mean re-cutting, often staying up late. In films with good traffic, no one ever boasted that the idea of editing was good, as if it was just a tool person who was hired. But I am the most cut in the company, the work comes on, how anxious and tired are down, I have no life, only work.
● Deer Dawson's personal website, the image is derived from the network.
Later, the company closed down, and I changed to several cities, but a long-term, contracted job was difficult to find, and my academic qualifications (hard injuries) were always in front of me and could not be surpassed.
Neither my grandmother nor my uncle supported me in editing, and I felt that learning beauty salon was real. Most of the girls in the village got married before the age of 22, and in order to avoid marriage, I did not dare to go home for the New Year. Grandma felt that finding someone with a car and a house in the county would be good to me. But I want to save up money to buy a house and stay in the city.
There seems to be a big gap in my heart, I want to have something that belongs to me, and I need the security of houses, cars, and tickets. From childhood to adulthood, all family affection is inseparable from money, and it feels that money-based relationships will be very strong. Everyone else is two people getting married together to pay off the loan and buy a house, I never thought I could rely on others.
I only love the media industry, the moment the video is released, there will be a sense of accomplishment, but it will not give me the sense of security, maybe one day, like the deer saying goodbye to photography, I will say goodbye to the editing I like.
In the first two years, I filled out the form for human organ donation and searched for how to commit suicide without pain. I was very resistant to such a fate, and always felt that I should be able to get into a bachelor's degree and get a good job, as good as ByteDance. I heard that there was a lot of pressure there, but I "wanted to be squeezed and couldn't squeeze it."
I haven't seen my father in more than a decade, and I contacted him once a few years ago, and he said that his daughter who was in college was not studying well, and "it was better to let you go to school at that time", which sounded disgusting. But I don't hate him anymore, I hope he pays attention to his blood pressure, pays off the mortgage as soon as possible, and has no fate in this life.
"I'm sorry, my life seems to have been on the run. /
Many things are pale and weak, and even if you experience it yourself, you may not know how I feel. Frozen three feet, and it is a cold day. /
What crushed me was not a straw, but countless grains of sand, and I walked like a mountain on my back. ”
(Excerpt from Dawson Lu's suicide note)
To Deer Dawson:
If it's too tiring and scary to be alive, I won't dissuade you.
- Mo Fei, 40 years old+, buried his brother in the riverbed of the reeds
In his forties, he gradually lived the life he once longed for, and rarely sat down again, uncovered his scars, and counted the pains of childhood. Lu Dawson's "suicide note" made me suddenly fall into the past again, and the scenes that had dimmed in my memory were illuminated again.
The methodical withdrawal of the young photographer, the delivery of photographic equipment, the delivery of belongings, the arrangement of the aftermath, and then the calm death, this is not a momentary affair, just like my eldest brother was in the past.
It was the ninth year, and the 21-year-old brother planned his own "life-ending trip" . He began to build trust six months in advance, helping his out-of-the-job workers to collect their wages every month. Until the last time, he took the salaries of 10 workers at a time and did not quit. Carrying hundreds of "huge sums of money", he went to Shanghai, Nanjing, Suzhou, and Hangzhou, walked through the Jiangnan city he longed for, and then counted the time of the Dragon Boat Festival, returning to the grave of his grandmother who loved him the most.
When my uncle went to visit the grave, he pulled out two cents from his brother's clothes pocket, as well as some ticket stubs for trains and attractions, and pieced together the last traces of his life. A handwritten last words slip read, "Only Mother is good in the world." It was a popular Taiwanese movie episode at the time, and it was also an indictment letter, without a word mentioning his father, but full of paper was scolding him.
I was 3 years younger than my brother and had lived with him for 12 years and slept in the same bed. We shared fun things with each other and he would beat up and bully my kids and sometimes beat me up. At that time, we were ashamed to show weak feelings, even if the father's slap fell, we refused to shed a tear. My brother and I rarely talked about growing nightmares in a serious way, and we never comforted each other. Stubbornness, sensitivity, inferiority, is our common character tone, I have been hurt, my brother has more or less suffered.
● Infographic, derived from Visual China.
I was weaned at 6 months of birth and was fostered in a foster home with my grandparents in the city, separated from my parents and 3 older siblings. There is a proverb in my hometown, called "I'd rather beg for food than with my father who is an official." But when I was 3 years old, my mom died.
The older brother and two older sisters grew up in the countryside, and they often looked for their father in the dark dark of the countryside without electricity and lights, the older children crying, the smaller shouting and running behind, and the father did not know which house he was drinking.
At the age of 7, Dad returned to the city to live. In the eyes of outsiders, my father was from the lowest level of the civic class, had little education, and was assigned to do heavy manual labor, dragging a scooter from house to house to deliver honeycomb coal. When he wasn't drinking, he was an "honest man", taciturn, had no sense of presence, and no one cared about his opinion anywhere.
My father's life was not satisfactory, and he also encountered various problems of that era. Only when facing a more vulnerable child can he lift his head and have the opportunity to vent his pressure and bitterness, perhaps hitting a child is his way of decompression.
When he beat us, he carried us into the room, locked the door, tied the person, and smoked with the end of the belt with iron, and when he smoked it, his body was purple and his skin was swollen. Sometimes with leather shoes directly kicked the back, kicked hard, the child like a puppet, "snapped" on the ground. When I was drunk, it was even less serious, and I sometimes thought that if he beat me to death, he would be relieved.
Sometimes neighbors come knocking on the door and are yelled away by their fathers, "I beat my own child, shut you up." The brother and sister who were not beaten stood next to me, silent, no one dared to stop me, and the eldest sister advised me not to disobey my father.
Fortunately, the other children in the neighbor's house were also beaten, although not as badly as my family. When they laughed at the blue and purple pieces on my body, I also had the opportunity to laugh at their wounds, and there was a sense of revenge.
Until the first year of high school, I was taller than my father, and could grab his fist with one hand, and he knew that he was old and not my opponent anymore.
My father ignored our growth, and the burden of raising my younger siblings fell on my eldest sister. At the age of thirteen or fourteen, she went to work as a sewer in a garment factory to support the family's expenses, a job that continued to retire. At the beginning of each semester, the three younger siblings have to pay tuition, and if they can't get the money, they will discuss who will pay first and who will pay it for a month or two.
As a teenager, I was malnourished, thin, with yellowish hair and often wearing patched clothes. There was a teacher who used a yin and yang strange tone to talk about my family's private affairs, gave me nicknames, classmates followed me to call me "yellow hair", and some people shouted "girly" - in fact, I did not have a soft temperament, they just thought it was a dirty word, and it was enough to attack.
School bullying is not necessarily all punches and kicks imposed on the body, and there is no permission to participate in group performances, and no one interacts with sports activities. Making friends is always afraid of offending people, with a kind of stubborn mentality, as if playing with me is a "gift".
The brother made "friends", he dropped out of school at the age of 15, and was promoted into society by his father before he was a minor, living with several "brothers" in society, most of whom were unhappy children in the family. He pedaled three wheels of delivery, went to the hair salon to do small work, worked as a nurse in the hospital, went to the textile factory to do sand turning, did as much as he could, and rarely went home. But every time I go home, I seem to be very worried, and I don't have the vitality of a young man. His father would ask him for money, and when he had money, his brother would stuff some for him, and when he had no money, he would steal the family's food stamps and cloth tickets. No matter how his father scolded him and beat him, he did not say a word and held on quietly.
The last time I saw my brother was in the sweltering summer. He sat on the edge of the bed and called me over, as if trying to say something. When I stood up, he was silent for a moment, but he didn't say anything. Probably in his eyes, I was still a child.
At that time, my mind was not on my brother, and I thought that it was best to grow up overnight and escape from this home. Brothers and sisters may think the same way, everyone is taking care of themselves, struggling in their own mud.
When my age gradually surpassed that of my brother, I kept thinking about the last side, if the angel asked hard and persuaded him well, could he not take this extreme road? After years of being beaten by society, I thought that my exhortation might be as pale as a piece of paper in the face of my brother's meticulous and meticulous plans. A man who bids farewell to the world with an iron heart will not come to grab my outstretched hand at all.
● Infographic, derived from Visual China.
When I was a child, whenever my father threw my clothes out of the house and told me to get out of the egg, I thought about rolling, turning around and going to my aunt who had taken care of me, there was always a place to go. The old magazines, novels and poems found in xinhua bookstores have also given me comfort and guided the direction. And his grandmother, who loved his brother, passed away very early, and he always felt that there was no one in this world who cared about him.
The uncle sent a telegram to his father, asking him to bring home his brother's ashes. My father was not willing to spend dozens of dollars to buy an urn, so he directly used a pocket to pack my brother back and stuffed it under my bed. A few days later, on a cold moonlit night, I found a piece of reed and buried my brother in the riverbed, not far from where my mother was buried.
Father, as usual, was drunk without moving. Nothing could affect his drinking, and his meager salary had always been prioritized for smoking and drinking, from morning to night, three meals a day. He once fell into the river drunk and fell on a bicycle that was precious at the time. After getting drunk, he went out of the ocean and talked nonsense all night long. So I didn't smoke or drink all my life, as if I was spending my life cleaning up my father's influence.
After graduating from high school at the age of 15, I went to technical school, worked as a mechanical worker, attended college night school, worked in a hotel, enrolled in high self-examinations, and finally got my undergraduate diploma. Geographically, I fled from the southern town on the Yangtze River, the 30-square-meter tube building, all the way to the provincial capital, to Beijing, and after fifteen years of drifting north, I fled abroad, driven by a voice, "Run, the farther the better", like a fugitive.
People who have a happy childhood can hide in their childhood to find spiritual support, and we are people who have nowhere to retreat.
Later, my father fell ill and died of alcoholism. My sister bought a cemetery and wanted to bury her parents and brother together. But the ashes of my mother and brother have long been gone, and I can't find even one of my brother's clothes or a photograph. It was only in the place where the bones were buried that year that he grabbed a handful of soil and put it into the tomb.
"If we can still have time, if we can return to the beginning of the bloodline again, I just want to pity, cherish, snuggle, and forgive each other." Repair the missing feelings completely, and make the love in your heart as simple as ever. But time is like a drop of water that never returns to our hands. There are many feelings in the world, whether we are willing or not, the regrets in life are always as tough as nostalgia." (Mo Fei's "Stitching" in honor of his loved ones was written in 2012.) ）
● Netizens commemorate Lu Dawson's painting. Photo: Lion Deer (Authorized)
● Illustrations created by netizens to commemorate Lu Dawson. Photo/ Liang Wang (authorized)
"Some people say why do you always feel that you are not confident enough, living in a blame environment since you were a child, I am very inferior. I just want a warm home and want to be loved, but why is it so hard. ”
I was exhausted, reassembled a million times, broken a million times.
(Excerpt from Dawson Lu's suicide note)
To Deer Dawson:
Life is just a big dream, and the final outcome is the same.
—— Chen Mo, 28 years old, extra actor
In Lu Dawson's super words, there are many depressed people who leave messages, and I will comfort those who want to commit suicide, as if I am encouraging myself, but it is not really useful. Many people are still in a state of depression and anxiety and don't want to do anything, I seem to have reached the next stage, planning what to do for a whole year - practicing the pectoral muscle abs inverted triangle, taking the ACE fitness personal training certificate at one time, learning photography, forcing myself to "get better" and not die.
It's a process of wrestling with one's own negative emotions and pulling with the world. But you may start to be depressed again because you suddenly remember something. Recently learned that my grandmother died, the epidemic reasons can not return to my hometown to send the end, I closed the curtains, shut myself in the dark to listen to songs, in a daze, play games, overeating, desperately eat sweet, fat 5 pounds.
I haven't drunk alcohol in two years, and I've drunk a lot these days. Grandma passed away, Grandpa died last year, Grandpa died the year before, Grandma died 30 years ago. I had one less loved one, and although they didn't hurt me very much, I was still sad. Maybe after two or three weeks, I will pick up my emotions again and go to the gym, picking up the "get better" plan.
People like me, there are no friends, rummaging through the address book, there is no one who can talk.
The trauma of my original family has always followed me. My grandfather had some land before, and my father was the most favored young son, and the people in the village called him "Third Young Master". Later, the family fell in the middle of the road, my father was spoiled, liked to drink with people on the street, three days a big show, two days a small field, from the street to the end of the street, refused to go out to work. Later, his brother, my great uncle, mixed well and built a stone house for his father in the middle of a large mud house in the village.
My mother is a famous beauty in ten miles and eight villages, and she has been blind dated by one or two hundred, and she can't look at it. When I met my father, I saw that others looked good, and there was only such a striking new house in the whole village, which coincided with the fact that the family was always angry with her at that time, and she quickly married like a gambler. Later, my mother was beaten up by my father and fled back to her mother's house, and when she wanted to get a divorce, my grandfather was ashamed and took my mother back home.
At that time, the status of women was very low, it was difficult for mothers to earn income from labor, and the family had always relied on their uncles for help. I have the impression that once the whole class paid the tuition, only I did not pay, my mother went to my grandmother to borrow, and my grandmother did not have any money, and now she sold the beans. But Dad loved him so much that he bought a portion of meat to eat himself, and my mother and sister and I could only pick up what he had left.
Relatives looked down on my family, and my aunt came to visit the door, only bringing some rotten apples that could not be sold, saying, "Anyway, you can't even afford to buy this." My sister would instruct my grandfather to ask for money, let me hold his leg and roll around, and when my grandfather couldn't do anything, he would give me a dime. But when the uncle's children came, Grandpa would give him a dollar. At that time, a dime could buy a slice of spicy strips, or a bag of soda, a piece of sugar or two, and eat a special luxury.
When I was a child, I transferred to the county to go to middle school, and I didn't wash my hair for a day, and I didn't take a shower for two days, so I worried about whether others looked down on me. Even when others look at me, they suspect that they are looking down on me. I always subconsciously to please others, once bought food for my classmates, afraid that others would see that it was uncomfortable, I bought a copy for everyone present, I did not eat it myself, obviously I wanted to eat.
● Infographic, derived from Visual China.
Because of my low self-esteem, I have not dared to talk to others, especially when talking to girls. Although I was good looking and tall, I was selected for the school flag team as a child. There was a girl who always liked to stick to me after class, and shouted behind me, brother. But I was silent, and this inferiority was interpreted by my classmates as "pretending to be cool". In retrospect, I was also liked.
When I got home, there were only endless quarrels, and my father often beat people. My sister is a year older than me, and in order to get less beaten, she sometimes marries me. She broke the TV, threw the remote control at me, and went to call out to her father: "My brother broke the TV." Sometimes she simply wanted to watch me get beaten up for fun.
Once I finally couldn't help but ask my mother, every time she told me to let my sister, I understand you, so I don't speak, but who cares about me? Mother was very surprised, she said, you are honest, you are good, your sister is always howling, I just want her to stop, don't disturb others.
Another time, the second uncle brought some ham sausages, and I divided a few for my friends to eat. The next day, his father said that because of these intestines, he and the second uncle had a fight. I cried so sadly in the bed that day that I realized that my father's brother could not be regarded as my relative.
Only my cousin was partial to me, and she only bought me food alone. Once I saw her, I was so excited that I rolled straight down the stairs, and now my nose was still a little bent. There are also table mates who like to buy pineapple-flavored fudge, which will be given to me, which has warmed me for many years.
People who lack love often don't get love, not because they are handsome and can avoid being hurt. I never dared to take the initiative to start a relationship, and I felt that I did not deserve someone I liked. Being "chased" and wanting to give all the good things to the other party, there is no money to buy Dior and Chanel's lipstick. The girlfriends were angry, I had to send hundreds of messages to coax, and in the end they left me.
In the fight against depression, love was a "weapon" and the meaning of living. Later, a girl taught me that there is a routine in love, you must first ask for warmth and courtesy, and then suddenly cold and hot, want to indulge, "let the other party think of you." I took careful notes and haven't practiced them yet.
I think that in the unfortunate original family, most of the parents will not teach their children to be sophisticated, and I still live according to the yardstick of my heart. Sometimes I also wonder if I should be a gregarious person, and if I come according to the "routine", I will have money and love, right?
I have done credit card promotion in Beijing for a while, if you cheat on the conversion rate, you can make a lot of money a day, and deduction is the unspoken rule of the industry. Only once when I couldn't pay the rent, I made a few thousand dollars in this way - this money is too good to earn, but then I never took this money again, and I couldn't get over the obstacles in my heart.
When it is particularly painful, it will choose to escape. Before I fled to the army as a soldier, I had very poor physical fitness, and I went to bed late and got up early to practice. When others do regular training, I will take the initiative to tell the instructor to practice 10 km running. I really can't stop running, and I cry while running. Tired to the point that the brain "crashes", walking can hit the pillar, there is no time to produce negative emotions.
Now I have "escaped" into the studio as a group actor, at most one or two lines, the role does not even have a name. The teacher who teaches acting says that acting is lying, and everyone knows it from an early age. No one taught me, I was a "problem student" in my class and learned very slowly.
Recently, I read some books to find a reason to live, after all, "all come". I don't have the courage to hate others, only to pay off the debts of the previous life. Now I want to forget bad memories as much as possible, to learn skateboarding, to buy a motorcycle, to play, to eat delicious food... Still have to work hard to live and love yourself.
● Screenshot of the account where Lu Dawson posted the suicide note.
(In order to protect privacy, the characters in the text are pseudonyms.) The head picture is an illustration created by netizens to commemorate Lu Dawson, the author of the dream galaxy, has been authorized. ）
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