I am Shi Jiating, a foolish person. I was now on the edge between life and death, and it made me realize that I had to do something. Because so far I don't want to lose my life.
I decided to talk to this simple coding system composed of binary and type the words into the computer. But my swollen brain doesn't allow me to write down any witty words, so I plan to keep a running account and write down whatever comes to mind.
I am twenty-four years old and have no job. I've been so anxious about my age that I often think I'm twenty-five now. I was born into a working-class family, and the biggest feeling I had when I was young was poverty. This does not come from the financial constraints of my family, but from my mother.
My mother, the person I most want to destroy but love, the person I most want to protect but want to destroy. For as long as I can remember, my mother has drilled into me how unlucky my family was. In her words, all my relatives except her are evil people, and they are always thinking about infringing on my family's interests, not just money. She said my father didn't love her and was selfish and unreasonable. She told me that ordinary people like us have difficulty making money and spending it, so money is very important and we must save every penny we have. In her eyes, life is like a boat on a vast ocean with surging undercurrents. She must spend all her life to keep herself afloat on the water and not die.
As I write this, I don't want to write a rant against my parents. I just write whatever comes to my mind.
My mother had a profound influence on me. Now I have become a person who works hard to survive, but I have also lost the right to have a carefree childhood. If my mother didn't love me so much, I don't know if I would still be alive now.
When I was young, I always felt that the children around me were noisy and brain-dead. No matter what happened, they would just make a fuss and enjoy doing some very stupid things. They would do whatever adults said and had no logical ability. This annoys me so much. I've been tired of being around children since I had the memory. In kindergarten, all I wanted to do was escape. Besides, seriously, I felt at that time that the kindergarten teachers didn't take their jobs seriously at all, they just wanted to get the job done and then send us kids home.
Later, I often became an innocent and innocent image in other people's impressions, but it was just that I was tired of others since I had memories, and of course I could not blend into the "group" complacently.
The seeds of my later hopeless self-love may have already been planted in my heart.
Parents often quarrel. As for the reason for their quarrel, the only thing I have vague memories about is the issue of relatives on my father's side, and I can't remember the details. When I think back on my feelings about this, I don't have a very reasonable-sounding feeling of "helplessness" in my memory. I probably felt irritable, sad, confused, etc. at that time. Maybe I chose not to face my parents' arguments at all so that I wouldn't feel isolated and helpless, but instead a false sense of ease took over. So much so that now I can hardly recall the content of my parents' quarrels, I only remember the high decibels.
I can't recall many things, but I can also recall many things.
I remember that in kindergarten, I was good at drawing, and the teacher would give me other children's drawings to add embellishments to show to parents. But I drew something that the teacher didn't want, which made them dissatisfied.
In my mother's memories, I was very bad when I was a child. I would attack other children simply because I was dissatisfied and disgusted with them.
I often torture living things, all kinds of bugs, chickens bought from the market, I like to torture them to death.
I used to hate and feel helpless about my excessive self-awareness, but now I slowly accept it.
When I was a child, I felt that many teachers and classmates did not like me and looked down upon me. It was not until I was older that I understood that wealth and poverty are so important. It is easy to tell which children are poorer and which are richer. The same goes for adults. When I was a child, I had ill-fitting clothes, wasn't hygienic enough, and didn't have enough "teaching". Coupled with my natural aloofness, of course I became the unpopular one among the children. However, in fact, I subconsciously knew that I was looked down upon for being poor, so I just chose to avoid the problem completely, and even deceived myself, making myself feel that I didn't know.
The words "naturally unsociable" are too classic.
But another complicated aspect is that my family is not extremely poor. And my mother never taught me how to be decent, how to hide my poverty, or even told me that I didn't need to maintain my image. She also said that she didn't need to care whether she was poor in the eyes of others. This may be an excellent concept, but it is also a tall order. I am not stronger than others, but weaker than others. I never accepted her words, but only felt inferior because of my image.
My high school is the focus. It arranges free speeches in turns every day to train students. I stood on the podium and talked a lot about my parents. I told them that they were very good people, but they were just unlucky. At that time, I took on the role of my parents on stage, and it was a reluctant and resentful version, like a down-and-out poor man bragging about his past glory with others. After my speech, my classmates hated me even more. What's more, in key high schools, most of the classmates are the children of businessmen, senior officials, and intellectuals.
Why don't the classmates who spurn me feel sorry for me and come to help me? I don't want to have such thoughts, but I still do sometimes.
Then one day I suddenly faced my inferiority complex caused by poverty, and finally changed from a pitiful and hateful person to a pitiful person. I don't know why, maybe it's just age.
Being overly sensitive and fragile, overthinking is very harmful and can cause people to fall into a vicious cycle, in which the brain consumes a lot of energy and becomes unable to act, and the inability to act leads to spending time on daydreams and meaningless rumination. This is actually normal, but I try to at least write down some memories, maybe it can improve me. I am very narcissistic and I care too much about myself, which is disgusting and disgusting to myself. But because of this, I don't want to wait to die.
My primary school teacher happened to be in menopause. She used to hit me with her fists, grab me and tear me hard, grab my head and lift me up, crush my pencil case, etc. I recall many of these things without much pain as they should be, and it seems that there was something wrong with my memory a long time ago.
What made a big difference to me about my primary school teacher was that she wrote in my graduation evaluation handbook that Shi Jiating worked very hard on duty one day, as if he felt that only by working hard can he be recognized by others. I told him that he should lower his head to pull the car but also raise his head to look at the road. I couldn't remember such a thing when I saw it, but I was very moved. But when I grew up, I actually saw the exact same words in my mother's diary: "I told Shi Jiating, you have to lower your head to pull the cart, but also raise your head to look at the road." Of course I don't remember how it happened. After I saw it, I couldn't help laughing. I felt it was extremely absurd.
As I write this, I am recalling group portraits from elementary school. Many of my classmates became a group image that floated in my mind.
A is my good friend. After I stopped contacting him, I missed him terribly. When I grew up and my thoughts became very complicated, I began to look down on him because of his stupidity, so I stopped contacting him. But I have feelings for him and it makes me very sad.
When I was very young, my impression of primary school was that it was a jungle society. In my childhood memories, the innocence and cuteness in the impression of children and adults are incompatible. Maybe this has something to do with the location of my home. My home is in Nanbao Development Zone, Tangshan, Hebei Province. This place was originally a rural area. As state-owned enterprises developed here, many buildings were built and turned into a development zone. It no longer looks like a rural area, but it is not enough to be called a county town. Maybe the problem of unruly people in remote areas is also reflected in the children in my hometown. In my elementary school, everyone was a ferocious beast, trying to steal respect, attention, and likes through certain behaviors. I was the fool or the weakling in the class, like the thinnest and weakest beast struggling to survive.
A's family is not poor, he is tall and handsome, and he was quite popular when he was very young. He is stupid and far less scheming than the other kids, so he is not in the top class of the school. He likes to hang out with a lot of the weaklings in school and treats them like little brothers, like me. But I was actually an outlier in school, far smarter than him and his other younger brothers, so I was bored a lot of the time. But being tall, he also saved me from being beaten by many of my classmates.
He also beats me sometimes. There was a time when the card game was very popular in schools. There are five cards in a 50-cent pack. One person puts his card on the ground, and the other person shoots it with his own card. If he shoots it over, he wins the card. It's a bit of a gamble. Most little boys enjoy collecting cards. A once asked me to buy a pack of cards after school every day, and then I had to lose them all to him, and then we would go back to our respective homes. Otherwise he will be unhappy.
@ is another younger brother of A. I dislike him very much because he is very stupid. This must not be because I am jealous and want A to only play with me. This is simply because I hate his stupidity. I beat him often, and it was difficult to get rid of him for a while, which annoyed me even more. His other little brothers, whose names I can't remember, I often beat them out of disgust.
I don't have much pocket money, so A spends money on snacks and other things outside, so he spends them generously on me. He also enjoys beating me at computer games. That was still the ancient Internet age. We have played together such as Chivalry Road, Wild Vegetable Tribe, Purcell, QQ Speed, etc. The time spent playing QQ Speed is very long. Later, after I went to college, Tencent released the mobile game Qfeiq Speed. I was very sad and even posted on WeChat Moments saying that I missed the friends I no longer had contact with. He can recharge money in games, but I can't. He also spends more time playing games than me who is forced to study by my mother every day. Therefore, he is much better than me in games, which makes him very happy. I have his account password. I once stole his Chiayidao account, sold all his belongings cheaply, and transferred all the money to myself. After he found out, he questioned me, but I refused to admit it. He didn't believe it and thought I was the one who did it.
I had several serious fights with A. The most serious incident that I remember was in junior high school. His attitude towards me became extremely irritable and indifferent for a period of time, which made me very unhappy. One night I got into a fight with him. Because I was very angry, I kept suppressing him and beating him. He talked to me because he couldn't beat me a little bit. As I grew up, I gradually became good at talking and making girls happy. He said this was the same trait as the top class people who often fight in groups in junior high schools. He was afraid that I would mix with them, so his attitude towards me changed. Now I know clearly that there is absolutely no logic in who I hang out with, nor is it because he found out that I am better than him. He just found out that I have very different characteristics from him, so he is afraid of losing me as a friend. A is very fragile.
The worst time I was beaten by my mother was in the second grade of junior high school. A was beaten and he called my landline directly. He cried and told me who had beaten him. When he was a child, he often bullied others, but because A was not smart, as he got older, he became a target of people who formed gangs and fought in groups. That time he was beaten severely. After hearing this, I became furious and immediately wanted to go out and fight. But A called my home landline, and my mother heard the call. She hit me and broke the mop rod, finally successfully stopping me from going out to fight.
Playing with me caused A some pain. I had excellent grades when I was a child, and A was a standard poor student. Adults all think that I am much better than A because of my academic performance, which brings him comparison. A is the standard child who is described as being suppressed by the public account Douyin today. He is kind, simple, stupid, and is denied and spurned by all adults. It is very painful. In the third grade of junior high school, he had trouble. The history teacher praised him for his progress. He was very, very happy. When he was writing history homework in English class, the teacher tore up his paper. He pointed at the English teacher's nose and scolded him. The whole floor heard it, and asked his parents to mediate for a long time.
My first painting teacher was not very bright. I enrolled in an extracurricular class to learn painting but made no progress, so A took me to the studio where he took classes. The teacher taught very well in a place like my hometown. I have never copied pictures, but have sketched a lot of still lifes, which puts me at a higher level than most so-called art students today. But A's painting was very poor, which was also the topic in the art teacher's mouth. One day there were not many people in the art class. As get out of class was about to end, the teacher gathered a few students together to expound on his principles of life. He said that A's mother burst into tears while talking on the phone with the teacher in the junior high school. After saying this, A immediately stood up to leave, but the art teacher grabbed his arm. A almost broke free, but was finally restrained by the teacher. He cried when he realized he couldn't break free. Finally, after being taught a serious lesson by the art teacher, I went home with him.
He runs like an ostrich, so I always call him ostrich.
I spent my time in Nanbao Development Zone before junior high school, and then went to Tangshan City for high school. A very big feeling that ran through me before junior high school was that many of my friends who were poor students were from the top class in the school and were very popular. But without exception, they were tortured very painfully by the adults' denial. Speaking of which, I am also a victim of adults. When I was a child, I was satisfied with my academic performance because I was a little smart.
B is what I call the top class. He is very strong and knows things better than other children. Among a group of young children, he already knows how to express himself. He liked Bruce Lee very much, and after Michael Jackson died, he liked Michael Jackson again. He thinks they're cool, and he thinks liking them makes him cool. There is always no shortage of little girls around him. He had a good relationship with A. Later, when he was in junior high school, he was already one of the gangster leaders, and he protected A from being beaten several times. Of course, he's just a gangster in school, not a gangster in the literal sense.
I remember playing with him when I was very young, and later he often bullied me. In the memory that I can barely recall, he didn't know that he was better than others at first, but then he gradually realized this and started to run rampant. One time he fought for the table tennis table I was using, but I refused to give it to him and started a fight with him. Finally, he put his foot on my head and pushed me to the ground, asking me to call him daddy. I didn't scream. After he was tired of stepping on me, I got up and continued to beat him, but I was stepped on the ground again. After a few repetitions he got tired and left.
Once he grabbed my water gun to play with, broke it and threw it to me. I slammed the water gun against the wall next to his head. At that time, I was standing in my seat, and he was sitting in his seat, far away. He slowly stood up and pointed at the ground, calling me over. I immediately wanted to go over and start a fight, but within a few steps I was hugged and stopped by almost all the boys in the class. One of my shoes was even dropped when they stopped me. This scene made everyone in the class laugh so hard.
There were probably more than 300 people in my junior high school, and by the time I reached the third year of junior high, there were only a little over 200 people left. More than a hundred students went to technical schools or no longer attended school. A classmate who had a good relationship with B beat someone to death, so his mother took him and fled to Qinhuangdao. B did not drop out of school and took the high school entrance examination.
C is a third-generation rich man whose family owns a trading mall. He often spent five or ten yuan to treat his classmates to snacks. From time to time, he takes his classmates to play in his villa. Tibetan mastiffs were still very popular at that time. He had three of them at home, and their long hair blocked his eyes. He played well with B, and I often fought with him when I was young. Once I smashed C's forehead with a rock and it bled a lot. When I called the parents of both parties, C's mother was very reasonable, which moved me very much.
At that time, there was a student named D who was bullied by everyone in the class. C was very happy to beat him and bully him. Once in class, C insulted D in class. D sobbed and cried a lot. After class, I wrote the words "I am domineering" on a piece of homework paper and posted it in front of C's desk. After C saw it, he took it off and ran to the podium to hold it up. He asked loudly who wrote it. I said it was me. He punched me hard several times, but I didn't say anything or fight back.
I use words like good and evil less and less now. The so-called goodness is the imaginary result of human beings evolving into complex animals and possessing the ability to imagine.
D is the weakling in the class. When I was a child, there were a few idiots in school who spoke slowly, had cowardly eyes, always had dust on their clothes, and had black stains on their necks that could never be washed away. But D is not a fool with intellectual problems, and his conversations with others are smooth. He is no more cowardly and stupid than the other weaklings in the class. The Samoyeds will keep a group of Samoyed dogs to protect the reindeer. Sometimes one dog in the group will suddenly be isolated by other dogs for no apparent reason and eventually be killed. D successfully transformed into this role. Because his test scores were always the last in the class, my primary school teacher would always tease him in class. It would be much better if he was the silent shadow in the class. However, he was as cheerful and naughty as every child of his age and communicated with others normally, so he naturally withstood the attacks from all his classmates. I was also one of the people who beat him up, and it was under the applause of my classmates.
My class teacher is a Chinese teacher. When I was in the fourth grade of elementary school, I often asked questions about text comprehension in class. No one in the class raised their hands, but I raised my hand to answer. So she often praised me. Looking back now, it seems that the students were fed up with her unstable temper and did not want to deal with her in class. I may have become the teacher-pleasing sycophant in class without even realizing it.
But this shocked me. Why was I often beaten severely by her, but I felt that answering questions in her class was a normal thing, so why did I do it disapprovingly?
In my memory, I rarely recall warm and happy things, and it is also very difficult to recall painful things, only sporadic fragments. Also, I often have difficulty determining whether my memories are authentic. I don't blame this on the pain I experienced, but subconsciously selectively forgetting things in order to protect myself. My memory must have been distorted and deformed over time, like a broken tree that kept growing and became violently deformed, turning into some kind of subjective fantasy.
According to the blue-pink theory, E is a standard pink girl who likes Barbie dolls and does small crafts. When she was in fourth grade, she liked me because I often answered questions in class and asked other girls to confess to me. I only regarded her as my friend, but after hearing that she liked me, I readily accepted it and fell in love with her. I went to her house to play. She was very cheerful, and later I wrote some sketches and performed them with her during class activities, and the effect was very good. I didn't have any strange feelings towards the opposite sex at the time, but after falling in love, I often fantasized about E eating me. I was more naughty than other little boys, and after thinking E was my girlfriend, I often made excessive jokes with her, much more casually than I did with other people. So she broke up with me. It's not a sexual joke, I don't understand.
In junior high school, E hung out with students who were fighting in groups, and fell in love with many of them. Whenever someone asked E if he and I were in a relationship, E would become very angry and ban the topic. She later went to a technical school specialized in flight attendants.
As I write this, I really want to write more details, but my writing is too rough. But I found that I couldn't write it, and I had forgotten it.
Most ordinary people have very little to write about in their lives. It's interesting, and I am the same. In fact, I am writing this just to find something to do.
F is my friend. We have played together since kindergarten, and our parents also know each other. She often comes to my house to play. I spent a lot of time with her and could barely think of anything to write about. She told me an incident when I was in junior high school. In kindergarten, she asked me to borrow colored pens. The child next to me said to me, "Don't lend her, don't lend her." I raised my hand and slapped the child hard on the face, and lent the colored pencils to F. But when she told me about it, I had no memory of it.
She is very beautiful, very smart, outgoing and lively, sharp-tongued, and often criticizes people. She can sing, dance, and perform at major events such as Children's Day. Like many students, I copied her homework and taught her many questions. In the second grade of junior high school, maybe I told her a lot of questions, but one day she asked me to go to her house to play. I had gone to her house to talk to her before, and it left an impression on me because she was very enthusiastic that day. She listened to me songs by The Supremes, showed me a magazine she took out from her parents' room full of naked women, gave me a bucket of five-pointed stars, and gave me a necklace. I am very happy and touched. But she doesn't like me in a heterosexual way. She was having an affair with a boy who was very fair and had very light eyes, and she practiced Taekwondo with the boy. He has a straight nose and a square mouth, and looks like a little fresh meat. There were rumors at school that they slept with each other.
When I first started school in the third grade of junior high school, one day A and I were running and playing, and I was chasing him. I saw F walking with friends on the road. I ran so fast that I didn't have time to say hello to her. I saw that she also saw me. After that, I was very concerned about the fact that I didn't say hello to her. After that, when I saw her, I would turn away and not say hello to her. I never talked to her after that until I saw her during the college entrance examination and exchanged a few words with her.
I'm twenty-four years old, and I still haven't figured out why I never talked to her again because I didn't say hello once. I am still sometimes surprised by my behavior when I was fourteen. What psychological disorder caused me to behave in a way that caused harm to others?
I am indeed a bit withdrawn and tend to alienate everyone, but this strange behavior of mine is definitely not because of this. I also never act with the sole purpose of hurting others. I was very sickly as a child and spent the first few years of my life in the hospital. As a child I acted silly and my neighbor once asked my mother if I could go to school. It may be a strange situation for me to be able to live a normal life now. When I was late for class in elementary school, I had to stand at the door and shout "report", and I could only come in when the teacher said please come in. When I was in the first or second grade, I was late for class and rushed into the classroom. The teacher in that class was a kind lady. She asked me to go back to the door and shout "report" before coming in. I walked back to the door of the classroom and stood there, silent and motionless. No matter how many questions the teacher asked me, I made no move. This matter was dealt with for half the class, and finally I called my parents. But calling for a report can be tentatively understood as my subtle resistance to formalism when I was not very sensible, but I suddenly stopped paying attention to F. I couldn't find any logic in this matter. When I was a child, my language, movements, expressions, thoughts, and various behaviors were all called alien and were treated as a topic of conversation. Maybe I am a puppet that represents "abnormality", and the producer thought that I was not strange enough, so they added an event that represented abnormality to my behavior so that I could continue to exist as an abnormality.
I often torture myself by recalling things that make me painful.
One day in junior high school, I had a dream. I walked to the platform at the corner of the stairs in junior high school. A little girl came up from downstairs and asked me where the English teacher was or something. She kept repeating this sentence. As she was talking, I felt something was wrong. She was speechless and had no teeth. It turned out that I understood the content of what she said from the shape of her mouth. At this time, she also noticed that I had noticed something strange. She suddenly turned into a fat devil with a mouth full of fangs, round eyes, and drooling saliva. She grabbed my arm and shouted at me fiercely. At this time, the sound of many people's neat footsteps came from upstairs. I didn't dare to let the evil ghost leave my sight. I saw dirty purple feet with my peripheral vision. I was terrified and emotionally shattered. At this time, my desire to survive made me immediately decide to calm down first. I tried my best to regain my sanity. The moment I regained my senses, I woke up, my body still shaking slightly.
I also play with G and H. They both studied well. G is the son of the head teacher. One day he fell off a high platform and was injured. He said it was me who pushed him. I was scolded by the head teacher in the Chinese class. After school, the two of them often come downstairs to my house and ask me to come out and play. After I came out to play, the two of them would discuss a plan to get me away, and then they would run home and suddenly disappear in front of me. I couldn't find them anywhere and went home on my own. They played this way many times. Once when a water pipe was being repaired in a community, a big hole was dug in the cement floor, and it was filled with mud and water. G and H asked me to go down, so I went down. I went down and they left, and then I climbed out of the pit and went home, covered in mud.
I once drew an RPG game and passed it on to many people to play. He himself was the interactive system. Before 2010, it was really advanced to make something like this when you were less than ten years old. I lost contact with him later, but I guess he became a very creative two-dimensional person.
The Self-Material Project is an exploration into the inner self, which includes cherishing and organizing personal memories, dreams and various life fragments. We hope that through this plan, we can build a shared collective subconscious with you, so that we can roam together in the infinite sea. This program encourages us to look back on our experiences and piece together fragmented memories and dreams into a meaningful story in order to better understand ourselves, our past and our future. By sharing and communicating these precious moments, we can create deeper connections and explore together the complexity and beauty of human life.
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