其實

我媽那天看我在讀其他人的blog, 隨口問 「你怎麼不自己寫篇故事？」 好像blog都是虛構小說一樣。我說我不會寫故事，他回 「生活的有趣的故事都可以寫啊。」 搖搖頭；有趣?! 算了吧，我的生活中沒有有趣的地方。唯一有的就是不停的失望跟令人感到黑暗的一切。所能做的就是盡量別去想，然後忽然發現有一天就不在了。 什麼東西不在了呢? 會是討厭的一切還是我呢? 值得思考。

以前還可以苦中作樂，現在也做不到，實在是很可恨啊。

One day when my mom saw me reading other people's blogs, she asked, "Why don't you write a story of your own?" as if all blogs are fictions. I said I don't know how, and she replied, "You can write about the interesting things in your life." I shook my head, interesting? Forget it, there's nothing of interest in my life. There is only unending disappointment and darkness. All I can afford is to not think about it, and discover that one days it'd disappeared. What had disappeared, you ask? The darkness or I? Pondering.

I used to be able to laugh at my misery, not anymore. Somewhat ticked off by it.