In the dead of night, I stood in my room without turning on the light, listening to the rain ticking down. It was dark outside, dark inside, and endless darkness hugged me gently. Without lights, I can imagine the misty and sad beauty of rain outside the glass window, just like my initial vision of the world.

Darkness is as gentle as the deep sea. My feeling is floating, as if all the rain in the world falls on my window, as if this house is the last ship in the world. Legend has it that the world was originally just an ocean with only one Noah's Ark. The first thing I saw was a wet and foggy land. Oblique rain soaked my newly opened eyelids, so I ran barefoot to Dai Wangshu's elegant rain lane. Seeing the high sky turn into a dark blue path that seems within reach; The green vine wrapped around the old wall was cold and washed, and clear raindrops flowed between the leaves; On the bud of ivy, I heard the first tremor of life; Every thin green vein on every leaf is different from other beautiful women.

From then on, I think the beauty of life lies in being different. Therefore, I like to sit on my father's knee and listen to him say that I should publicize my personality and liberate myself. I like to be alone in the middle of the night, so that the fluttering night stays in my black pupil; I like to take different roads, wear different clothes, buy different flowers and listen to different sounds ... so much so that I just want to receive these smells alone and don't want to share them with others. Because I am who I am, and I am different from everyone else. Freedom and going my own way are the combination of my personality.

However, the silent flow of time has worn away the edges and corners of my character, hypocrisy and sincerity, meanness and nobility, malice and kindness. These opposing elements collide again and again, which makes me lose my direction in life. Mencius said that human nature is good; Xunzi said that human nature is evil. I can't verify the initial transparency of human nature, I have been covered with dust. Growing up taught me to lie, deceive myself and others. Laughing and laughing in everyone's noise, saying what you don't want to say, laughing unhappy, at least on the surface, living like others, thinking that this can avoid the collision between reality and self. The result is just complete loneliness.

I also insisted on a friendship, not having to meet each other, but seeking to know each other; See yourself in his eyes, see yourself in his eyes, regardless of each other's tacit understanding But there are always wise men who advise me not to be serious. Kuafu's persistent pursuit of the sun ran away in the ancient style, and his descendants laughed at his stupidity and thrived in the peach forest and became his trunk; I also live in this peach forest, and I have witnessed people looking forward to sincerity while they are busy betraying.

The world in my eyes has collapsed, the earth is crumbling, and there is no ark of redemption. Trance is the first time I opened my eyes. Memories slide silently on the rails like a train, and time goes backwards one after another. Everything goes back to the past, back to the old days when right and wrong alternated, like a thick and long dream. Suddenly woke up, summer suddenly came, black July approached, and the air was sultry and dignified. It seems that I suddenly realized that I was a student, and before I had time to think about what I liked and what I would do in the future, I squeezed into the wooden bridge of the college entrance examination. I'm busy too. Life at school and home is unattractive on weekdays, but my parents locked me in front of my desk with expectant eyes. Then some nights I walked slowly under the dim street lights and on the almost broken old wooden bridge, watching the wind blowing the leaves and drifting with the flow. I suddenly have a feeling of heartache. Life is a river under the bridge. I haven't had time to tell me where to go. I have been trapped by various reasons and have to go with the flow. It turns out that I'm just a fallen leaf. It turns out that I can't just be me. So, who am I?

There's no time to look. The next day, I was so busy in the pile of books that I forgot my habits and time, and I was busy for the sake of being busy. Occasionally, I stop and fix myself in the crowd. People who have nothing to do with me come and go in a hurry, dreaming that I can make the bubble disappear here. What will the world be like? The world is still that world, which seems to have nothing to do with me, but since I was born, an invisible force has pushed me to this road. I don't know what scenery is ahead, so I can only move on, just like a passer-by in Lu Xun's Passer-by …

It is raining outside the window.

The sound of rain, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock ... every drop of rain falls on the ground and on my heart, and I can count every drop of rain clearly. I have an irresistible impulse to go far away to find myself. But I can't walk, I can't break free, I can't give up, I can't leave that "besieged city": parents' expectations, teachers' warnings, friends' warmth ... all the people who love me in this world hold me.

A guy who likes to live an ascetic life laughs at me for being idle and making much ado about nothing. He said that if I didn't have a beautiful home, if I couldn't afford designer clothes, and if I was worried about the next meal, I wouldn't be so far-fetched.

Maybe he is right, I can't refute it; Maybe he is wrong, and I don't want to refute it. I have read an article "Feathering or ice clearing into butterflies", which is about a clever woman named ice clearing. Her beauty does not belong to this era of reinforced concrete jungle, her parents or her boyfriend. So on a sunny afternoon, she quietly turned into a butterfly and flew away.

What about me?

It is raining outside the window.

I didn't know how far I longed until I longed again. Once again, I can only sit quietly and touch the lines on the floor in the dark. It turns out that I have been standing under the fig tree for nothing, and no matter how I pursue it, there will be no result. Everything is destined to return to the original origin; Just like tonight, even if the rain all over the world really falls outside my window, this house will become the last ship in the world. Tomorrow I will still sit at my desk, just like every time it rains outside the window, it will eventually clear up.

It's better to think nothing. Everything belongs to burnout and aimlessness. Let it miss what is missed, and let it pass what is lost.

But I never give up! I will stand under the fig tree and ask again, "Who am I?"

Not leaves, not petals, not roots, not soil.

Yes or no? Turn into a butterfly.

She must have a good chance of writing such a good article.