Communist Script | Urine

The moment I stood up tremblingly from the ground, the play officially began. At that time, I lost control and often wet my pants, so they put on diapers for me. If the diapers got wet, I would always cry, but I could clearly see them smiling, peaceful and kindly when they changed my diapers. When I grew up, they would always laugh at me for peeing my pants and say, "Did you pee your pants again?" From this, I thought that peeing my pants was a good thing, so I peeed until I became sensible. I was six years old that year, and I finally saw the disgust in the eyes of my family. At first, this disgust was not clear, like words hidden in the fog, difficult to identify. Later, they told me very seriously that you can't pee your pants again, otherwise you will be punished and spanked. I was stunned. I really couldn't understand. If this was the case, why did I laugh in the first place? It's a pity that the muscles that have always been indulged cannot be controlled, so peeing has become the most terrifying nightmare since then.

I remember in kindergarten, whenever I looked embarrassed, the teacher would let me go to the bathroom. I took off my shoes, socks and pants, washed my wet legs and feet, put on the spare pants I took out of my schoolbag, and put the urine-stained pants into a plastic bag. After returning to the classroom, I wiped the chair clean, and faced the cynicism and sarcasm of my classmates who pinched their noses and expressed disgust in every possible way. This is what I experienced as a child.

The smell of urine is like a vine constantly restraining me as I grow up. No matter where I go to the end of the world, it will follow me to the end of the world. I can't breathe and can't get used to it, because I have smelled it clean after cleaning. With comparison, the stench is the stench. There is no dispute. Even ten or twenty years later, it will still be the same. Facts have proved that this is indeed the case. When I was thirty-six years old, everyone around me was starting to write novels, but I was still alone. I long for companionship, but whenever someone wants to get to know me deeply, I can't help but feel inferior, run away, avoid, and hide. After they peel off my body and see a world full of urine yellow, they will definitely abandon me immediately.

Don't think you can abandon me, I abandoned you first! I deceive myself. Speaking of heavy rain, I like heavy rain the most. Under the wash of the heavy rain, I can finally throw away the urine bag and relax. The free urine falls along the rain. After that, there will be no smell at all. I open my mouth to the sky to drink the rain. I want to drink lots and lots of rain, and then pee lots and lots of rain. I danced happily in the heavy rain. If people looked at me from a distance, they would think I had won the lottery. But what they didn't know was that I was peeing. In public, I was peeing, just like I was breathing, blinking, and my internal organs were performing their duties. I don't need to be ashamed of things I can't control. God, let this heavy rain never stop falling, washing away the cold eyes and the smell of urine on my body. The urine seeped into my skin, into my bones, into my soul, and tortured me over and over again. I was really tired of living in this situation. After I returned home, exhausted, the pee was gone. It was clean and I could feel it. The sheets were newly laid, so I threw myself on them and covered myself with the quilt. After a while, it was warm under the quilt. The rain was pattering outside and the thunder was booming. I felt a little stuffy. I stretched my arms to both sides of the pillow. It was cool there. It would be great if this happened every day.

Unfortunately there is no if. How else could I say this was a nightmare? After waking up, I still wet the bed. Happiness is always short-lived. I pulled out the sheet, and the plastic waterproof mat underneath seemed to be somewhat damaged, and the urine seeped into the mattress along the damaged areas. I'm looking for the self-cleaning foam I bought to clean and deodorize it, but I can't find it. So, I cried, I cried unsatisfactorily. I was crying above me, but I was peeing uncontrollably below. In fact, I should have stopped peeing, but every time I cried and pumped, one or two drops would inevitably come out. Fuck the diaper bag, screw the no-rinse foam, screw your life.

I'm going to kill myself, I'm so determined to pay attention. Jesus cannot keep me, I say. But I didn't expect that Jesus seemed to have known about this for a long time and allowed me to meet...

To be continued…

"Communist Script" is an innovative project. It is not only a script, but also an open platform that gathers everyone's imagination and creative talents. Its core lies in continuous creation, encouraging participants to continue writing the stories in their hearts and allowing them to explore and extend into unknown areas. The charm of this project is that whether it is a detailed epic or a simple short story, it can be accepted and appreciated. It does not set limits and does not stick to a fixed plot or ending, but allows every creator to freely use their imagination and creativity. This diversified creative approach gives every story endless possibilities. Another characteristic of the communist script was its communal nature. The joint participation of the creators makes the script like an organism, constantly growing and changing. Everyone is contributing to this common project, and everyone's creations become part of the overall work. This collaborative creation method makes the script full of vitality and change. In general, "Communist Script" is a place that stimulates creativity and brings together the wisdom of everyone. It encourages us to challenge traditional storytelling, break out of fixed thinking patterns, and allow our imagination and innovative spirit to flourish. By continuing to create, we can push our stories further and further into unknown territories, revealing the infinite possibilities and diversity of life.

Contributions welcome