I am not a mirage…

At 2:00 in the morning, still sitting alone with a bottle of beer, trying to rock myself to the music to keep the party distraction. There is no shortage of friends here, just rolling your eyes around to see: George, though much smaller than his German friends, is always smiling and addicted to dancing, some Mete just likes to stand out drinking beer and chatting freely. Girl, with Karen often standing alone in a far corner looking at his friends and smiling, there is Joseph showing off today being a ‘warm-up DJ’ and criticizing the current DJ for not in a corner (say after he was in half)… Of course I refuse all the dancing.

4 a.m., again like yesterday, talking hard about my own affairs, pouring out of my heart when I have had enough to drink. It doesn’t matter who the person sitting across from you is, if you understand anything. Just having someone listen is enough.

5:00 in the morning, sit back and relax in the room. Dream feeling comes at any moment.

For the past two months, dreams have kept coming back. Like, the real life story was so hopeless that my extreme aspirations could only reveal the details in a dream. Always beautiful perspectives, always the most plausible explanations even if it only makes sense in a dream.

It is an irony that the more beautiful the dream is, the more hopeful it is; When you wake up, face reality, you feel even more lonely and humiliated. I formed a habit of automatically waking up to check messages and call history automatically … Seeing them empty is no different from seeing my heart empty, and then I said, “Ah, then again. is a dream. ”

But then dreams also know how to tantalize. Woke up after a beautiful dream. With hand check the phone. Her messages are still here. So is that real? Immediately book a plane ticket the same day. Come back. Conversation. Hang out.

A few days ago I spoke to an old college friend who tracked her down based on what I wrote. According to this friend, it seemed like she really didn’t have children, it was all a joke. I remember telling my friends appreciatively, “You don’t know what that means to me.” I think I was able to sleep well.

But who knows, is this conversation just part of a long dream? Then will wake up. Then we were faced with a cold, irreversible reality.

Finally, I am not a mirage.

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