What is true despair? Is it the sigh of giving up, or the numbness of acceptance? Maybe both.
The real despair is like a drowning, trapped in a deep blue, the sun shining water is just above the head, but the hands and feet are no longer paddling, just quietly feel the air. Bit by bit, the burning pain disappeared from the lungs, and then bit by bit away from the water, it sank into the more intense darkness.
The process is slow and smooth, without any waves or struggles, maybe a second, maybe a century, when the lungs can no longer search for oxygen, the lake is full of icy cold water, when the sight can no longer search for light, The darkness is firmly around, and all of a sudden, a thread breaks and it's all over. Without warning.
Henry fell into despair, he tried to suppress his broken cry, he tried to stay away from the noise of the world, but the stinging pain in his chest was still very clear, still a real and sharp reminder to him: even if he became a walking dead, he is still alive .
The voice in the ear is so clear. The indistinct moaning/groaning of the drunkard, the dull reverberating engine sound of the bus, the trivial and sharp rubbing sound of high heels, mixed with the light breeze in the middle of the night, constantly echoed on the eardrums, ***, dirty , cheap, vulgar, ugly, rude, primitive, real, like a garbage heap full of white mucus, flies buzzing up and down, the viscous liquid hula hula closing up and down, involving disgusting Filament.
Henry didn't want to pay attention, he refused to pay attention, his eyes widened, staring blankly straight ahead, the scarred soul was struggling to find a gap to breathe, and then the moaning/groaning in his ears suddenly reached the top, it seemed that it was finally It was released, and then I heard the vicious voice coming, "Call out all the stinky money!"
It was a childish voice, but it had the vicissitudes of life that did not match his age. Henry cast his gaze reflexively, not out of curiosity, but just in response to the sound, and then he saw that thin and immature figure—
She looked no more than twelve or three years old, and her body was not fully developed, with dry curves hanging empty in a black lace lingerie, a pair of worn black fishnet stockings and cheap plastic diamond heels on the lower part of her body; a childish face She was still wearing baby fat, but her fair skin was concealed by the poor foundation and bright red lipstick.
She's underage, she's a prostitute. She is a chick/prostitute.
The soul that has not had time to grow up, but can't wait to live the life in thirty years, the serious sense of disobedience is like "the world of Truman", and the absurd reality is interpreted into a comedy, which makes Henry's The corners of his mouth twitched. This should have been a mocking smile, but the smile turned into a shallow arc and stayed at the corner of her mouth because she turned her head.
Erica sensed a calm but scorching gaze projected over her. She turned her head reflexively, glared at the other party viciously, and then saw those deep eyes. There was no special emotion, only too thick to melt. The open gray can vaguely glimpse a touch of pain and sadness, struggling gently, his handsome eyebrows are like the sun at twelve o'clock in the middle of the night, thin and magnificent.
Sammy was stunned. This is not the plot of the script. According to the script, she does not need to turn her head at the moment, but concentrates on chasing the alcoholic for the reward. However, she felt the deep gaze, and turned her head almost in a physical response. When she turned her head, she regretted it. Could it be because of her own fault that the filming has to be stopped this time
But then Sammy saw those eyes. The coat of reality in her mind gradually faded, and she was immersed in those eyes, capturing the pain and sadness hidden in the depths of her eyes. To the extreme sadness gradually a little bit of thick ink-like despair. Violently, he stabbed her heart fiercely, soft, strong, all torn apart.
The emotions in my eyes flowed out involuntarily. This is not a performance, but reality.
Before she thought about it, she showed her teeth and glared fiercely at the other party, as if she was demonstrating. She didn't know what she was, and she completely forgot whether she was Sammy or Erica, but just made such a move subconsciously, flowing smoothly and in one go.
"The Guard is Here"
Immediately, she ignored the other party, turned her head, and looked at the customer in front of her with a fierce expression like a hyena, showing her untidy but still white teeth, showing her power, "Did you hear? Hand it over!" Compared to that man, the reward in front of him was more important. The service has been completed, and the transaction must be completed.
The smile stopped at the corner of Henry's mouth, and he saw those eyes.
Clear but sophisticated, stubborn and sharp, unruly and fragile, she tried to protect herself earnestly, and then put on the cloak of vicissitudes of life, confronted the world carelessly, and rammed her head into blood, but not to escape, nor to escape. Not for dreams, hopes or freedom, just to live.
The blankness and fragility hidden behind her eyes were really too deep, maybe even she didn't notice it herself. In this cold and freezing world, she doesn't have the heart to think about other things, to live, to live strong, to live without compromise, this is the only point.
Those contemptuous, critical, sarcastic, condescending glances meant nothing to her, as if dazedness and vulnerability could not fill her stomach. So, she raised the corner of her mouth, as if mocking Henry's self-righteousness, then turned her head away, disapproving.
This is the future of society, and this is the status quo of the next generation. In this dilapidated, dark world, there never seems to be a future.
A sharp stabbing pain pierced into Henry's heart, which gradually became stiff due to despair, but the heart felt no pain at all. Accelerating the process of stiffness, the bitter ripples in his mouth made the taste of despair become clearer little by little, and every cell in his body was bearing it.
That immature face didn't notice Henry's sinking at all, she was still obsessed with her service fee, and for providing services, she would naturally be rewarded, she slammed into the alcoholic's thigh, "Hurry up and hand over all the stinky money. come out!"
"What?" The alcoholic was so drunk that even a moment of pleasure couldn't wake him up. Just like this sleeping society.
"Do you think I like you? Hurry up and hand over the stinky money!" She was still screaming and shouting sharply, using all her strength, the courage to sacrifice for her life was moving, she waved her teeth and claws. Holding hands, trying to find his own reward in the alcoholic, even if it's just a few dollars, "Now!"
The drunkard finally woke up from the numbness of alcohol. It only took a moment. He raised his right hand and slapped the chick/prostitute in front of him. The force of the throw was so fierce that she fell directly. On the ground, his mouth was full of blood.
Unplanned, unplanned again. But this time Sammy's brain was clear, without the slightest panic, she could clearly and accurately feel the calm gaze falling on her shoulder.
According to the script, she should stand up, then look down at Henry, and start teasing/teasing each other with her eyes. She was a little worried because she didn't know what "teasing" was. But at this moment, she didn't need to think at all, and couldn't think, the plain sight seemed to have a powerful force that was pulling her.
She remembered the words of the makeup artist. So, she raised her head and, following the conditioned reflex of her physiological response, met the pair of sights. Those deep and complex sights stinged her fragility, and the dull pain at the corners of her mouth began under the burning eyes. The turbulent tumbling, an uncontrollable emotion surged up, and the eyes were filled with resentment and ridicule, as if to say: Am I embarrassed? Are you happy? So what do you think? Should you pay? After all, performances are paid for.
Those viper-like eyes were mixed with grievances, unrestrainedness, anger, jealousy, hatred, ridicule, ridicule, and indifference, as if a torrential rain poured down towards Henry. It was a scarred soul, a soul trapped in hell, a soul that chose to exile itself because it could not see tomorrow, a soul that hated society and hated others.
At this moment, she is not Sammy, she is Erica. He's not Renly, he's Henry. Under the gaze of those eyes, she involuntarily raised her chin and cast her gaze contemptuously and defiantly. That impulse was rampaging in her chest, and she just wanted to vent it heartily and without any cover.
Henry sat quietly on the spot, not surprised, not stunned, not panicked, just that the gray all over the sky nibbled away the last remaining color on his body bit by bit.
How ridiculous, how ridiculous. Such a soul is only twelve or thirteen years old, and the face that is so tender and young has not even been able to fade away the milky air of childhood. The discordant contradictions make everything absurd and uninhibited, as if "a hundred years" The deformed and magical society in "Lonely" makes it difficult to distinguish whether it is fiction or reality.
At the end of despair, Henry chose to accept and accept the reality. The pain that went deep into the bone marrow could no longer stir up any ripples, because the soul was tattered, and the pain nerves had exceeded the limit of bearing. He could no longer feel any pain, no pity, and no more. Hope, so, just like this quietly, quietly looking at those eyes, calm, a touch of cold seeps from the inside out, making people shudder.
Erica smelled the cold and fragile breath, and she realized that this was a prey.