希望有一天

五月的碎片 我說它小小的，卻要承受著我所有的情豬。 喜也好悲也好，太多了真的太多了，越來越沉，慢慢墜落，偶爾也希望有天誰能來溫柔的接住它，總是把那些細細小小的碎片往裡面拼命塞，没有希望誰能夠將這些碎片拿出來，而是告訴妳，墜落也没關係，我會接住它。 我知道我在海裡，但我不知道海多深，也不知道陸地在哪裏，所以我寧願抓住讓我往下墜的感覺，讓它成為我的安全感，因為這是我唯一能確定的事。 我的喜歡小小的，你說為什麼小小的，因為這樣你才不會發現它，不發現它你就不會知道，其實它像玻璃一樣，你看著它會看見滿滿的自己，因為就算是小小的也全是你，但也很脆弱，一個不經意，就不是小小的喜歡而是滿地的碎片。 試圖去撿起，會發現自己傷得體無完膚，但又不甘心怎麼這麼脆弱 於是拼命撿，愈陷愈深，想證明什麼我不知道 可能就算是碎片也曾經是我喜歡的樣子吧，知道那些碎片都是小小的自己，想努力拼湊 但你會發現真的再也無法完整，而當你又找到一個小小的喜歡的時候，會用盡全力把它捧在手掌心 深怕它像上一個一樣碎掉，那樣的的遍體鱗傷，但你不知道的是，你以為的完整，也是一堆碎片而已。 五月，春天的尾聲。 你說，春天的花開的好美；我說，但我害怕打雷閃電。 你說，女生不能太獨立；我說，可是我已經習慣這樣了。 你知道為什麼要獨立嗎？因為到頭來所有人都跟你一樣會離開，你也會走。 最後能不能像你抱小貓咪那樣， 也把我當成牠， 就算你不愛牠，也不愛我。 Fragments of May I say it is small, yet it carries all of my feelings. Joy, sorrow—there is simply too much of it. Too much. It grows heavier and heavier, slowly sinking. Sometimes, I wish that one day someone would gently catch it. Not to pull out all the tiny fragments I keep forcing inside, but simply to tell me: “It’s okay to fall. I’ll catch you.” I know I am in the sea, but I do not know how deep it is, nor where the shore might be. So I choose to hold on to the feeling of sinking, letting it become my sense of safety, because it is the only thing I am certain of. My affection is small. You ask why it has to be small. Because if it stays small, you will not notice it. And if you do not notice it, you will never know that it is like glass. When you look at it, you see yourself reflected everywhere. Because even though it is small, it is entirely made of you. But it is fragile. One careless touch, and it is no longer a small affection but a floor covered in shattered pieces. You try to gather them. You end up wounded from head to toe. Yet you cannot accept how fragile it was, so you keep picking up the pieces, sinking deeper and deeper. Trying to prove something—I do not know what. Maybe because even as fragments, they once looked like the shape of what I loved. You know those fragments are pieces of yourself, so you try desperately to put them back together. But eventually you realize they will never be whole again. And when you finally discover another small affection, you hold it with all your strength, terrified that it will shatter like the last one, terrified of being left bruised and broken once more. What you do not realize is that the thing you call whole was made of fragments all along. May. The end of spring. You said, “The flowers bloom so beautifully in spring.” I said, “But I am afraid of thunder and lightning.” You said, “Girls shouldn’t be too independent.” I said, “But I’m already used to it.” Do you know why I learned to be independent? Because in the end, everyone leaves. Just like you will. In the end, could you hold me the way you hold a kitten? Could you hold me like that too? Even if you do not love the kitten. Even if you do not love me.