希玖Sigil
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@sigil
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2026.6.17 好大儿表白,有感而发 对于喜欢的人到底怎么办 我喜欢她吗,我很想说,我喜欢她,可是我不敢,我不知道我的情感是不是喜欢。他们总是说,你喜欢就去表白,你至少要告诉她。 但是我知道她不会喜欢我,我时常会看着她的照片发呆,我在想如果她同意了,会怎么样, 或许我会和她开心的在一起,我会和她开一些不大不小的玩笑,然后我们哈哈大笑 或许我会在每一个节日给她买礼物,她或许会开心的收下,她或许会一边吐槽的说眼光怎么差,一边笑的收下 或许我会在高铁站或机场送她去学校,她会在微信上和我吐槽所有在学校的见闻 或许或许或许说了许多或许,可是如果她不同意呢,或许她会在咖啡馆之类的地方和我聊一聊然后委婉的拒绝我,或许她会和朋友吐槽说,我向她表白了,我不知道 这时候有人就会说,你至少要让她知道吧,及时被她拒绝,即使让让全世界都知道你被拒绝了,也应该让她知道,你,橙子,喜欢她 可是即使她同意了和我在一起,或许我会和她经历我所说的欢笑,可是我明白,我不会是她喜欢的类型,即使她和我在一起了,我木头一样的性格,也不会让她开心的,她像一朵盛开的向阳花,和所有人都聊的来,和所有人都可以开开心心的 而且,我凭什么被她喜欢呢,一天到晚烟不离身,空长了一个大高个的骨,长相普普通通,扔在街上不会有人多看两眼,长了一身皮肤病,治也治不好,怪吓人的,永远一张死人脸,也懒得和别人交际,身体也差的一塌糊涂,从小像药罐子一样长大,膝盖三天两头的疼,胃病隔三差五的犯,又有谁会喜欢一个病秧子烟筒子 即使,她和我在一起了,这四年的异地恋我不知道我能不能走过来,就算退一万步讲,我们真的走过了大学四年,可是现实不会骗人吧,她是至少一本毕业的大学生,而我只是一个高中都没毕业的盲流子罢了,到时候我真的能给她幸福吗,我不知道 可是我真的喜欢她吗,我很想说我喜欢她,我想和她在一起,走过一年四季,经历一日三餐,可是我不敢,我真的不敢 我现在偶尔也会看着她的照片发呆,她长的很好看,瓜子脸,鼻梁不算高,两个亮闪闪的大眼睛,长长的睫毛,上有两道柳叶眉,鼻翼两侧有一点祛斑,樱桃小嘴,额前少许刘海,搭配上高马尾或鲨鱼夹,嘴上总是带着笑 这时候我总会点一只烟想起和她经历的一幕幕,我真的是个情感迟钝的人,还记得高一下的时候,她坐在我的侧后方,那是我高中最幸福的时候了,感觉明天虽然痛苦,可总有什么是值得期待的,然后高二分开,那时候我隐隐约约感觉我对她有不同的情感,但我不知道这是什么,直到高二上快结束,我的好大儿和我说,她喜欢一个女生,我才反应过来,原来这就是喜欢吗 我不知道她是否发觉我喜欢她,或许是吧,我坐在讲台旁边的时候,时常偷看她,偶尔也会被她发现,或许没有吧,我永远是一张死人脸,大部分时间都是一个表情,我不知道 我喜欢张小只的一首歌,叫小模样,里面有一句歌词是,我还是忘不掉你的小模样,坐在我身旁,听着晚风轻轻唱,每次一听到这首歌,我就会想起高三的一个梦,梦里我和她在一起了,她抱着我的胳膊叫我,橙子,橙子,好橙子,(她知道我网名叫好橙子后,偶尔也会叫我橙子),每次想起,都会有些怅然若失 不知不觉也写了一千多字,写的不好,也请见谅,すみません 2026年6月17日 好橙子
南冥 巴拉莱卡(门尼) 我尽力了龙宝
只是一些有感而发的碎碎念随笔 有时候我会想,人们究竟是从哪一刻开始,学会了藏起自己。 而这大概率是先从眼泪开始的。 小时候摔倒,第一反应是哭,哭得理直气壮,哭得惊天动 地。因为那时候相信,眼泪是会被接住的。会有人跑过来, 将我们扶起来,吹一吹伤口,轻轻说一句“没事了”。 以至于被看见这件事,是那么的自然,是那么的理所当然。 可是后来,不知从什么时候起,人们就不再哭了。 不是不疼了。是疼的时候,身边没有人,或者有了人,却不 敢让他们看见。于是渐渐学会了在眼泪涌上来的时候仰起头,在声音发抖的时候咬紧牙关。 最后在别人问“你怎么了”的时候,笑着摆摆手说一句“没什么事”。尽管这听起来很坚强,但其实比什么都要沉重。 最终,疼痛被我们换算成了一个可以承受的单位。 三分的疼皱皱眉,五分的疼抽根烟,七分的疼请个假在家躺 一天,九分的疼..九分的疼反而最安静。因为一旦开口,那个数字就会变成十分,变成一场再也兜不住的溃败。 有时候,我还是会怀念小时候的那种哭法。摔倒了就哭,难过了就喊,名正言顺,不需要理由。在长大以后,哭逐渐变 成了一件需要交代前因后果的事。 人们必须要有“充足的理由”才能哭,而那个标准,也随着年 纪增长越来越高。到最后,好像在漫漫人生里,只剩下很少 很少的事情才配得上我们流泪。失恋不算,失业不算,孤独不算,撑不住了也不算。 可我现在慢慢觉得,这个“充足的理由”本身就是一个谎言。它让我们误以为,痛苦是可以量化的,是值得被比较的。 但疼就是疼。 一棵树要在大风中屹立不倒,靠的不是僵硬,而是韧性。它可以在风中弯曲,可以沙沙作响地颤响。那些看似脆弱的枝 条,也恰恰是它存活下来的原因。 人也是如此的。那些敢于承认脆弱的人,反而更能承受住生 活的重量,因为他们不需要耗费额外的力气去维持一个坚不 可摧的假象。 当一个人能在多大程度上允许自己脆弱,就能在多大程度上 成长。 所以,如果可以的话,对自己包容一点吧。 没关系的,你可以不完美。 没关系的,你可以脆弱。 没关系的,你还有我。 2026.5.9 黑择明
Sirius sat on the window ledge, knees drawn to her chest, watching the moon. She didn't turn when Verna came in. 瑟瑞丝坐在窗台上,膝盖抵着胸口,看着月亮。薇尔娜推门进来时,她没有回头。 "No nightmares tonight?" “今晚没做噩梦?” Verna set a warmed cup of milk on the table. 薇尔娜把一杯温好的牛奶放在桌上。 No answer. 没有回答。 Verna settled by the table and turned the pages of that star atlas she never seemed to finish. The room held nothing but the rustle of paper. A long while passed. Sirius climbed down and stood on the far side of the table. 薇尔娜在桌边坐下,翻着那本永远也翻不完的星图。屋子里只剩下纸页翻动的声音。过了很久,瑟瑞丝从窗台上跳下来,站在桌子的另一边。 "Why?" “为什么?” she asked, her voice low and rough as stone on stone. 她开口问道,声音低沉而粗粝,像石头磨着石头。 Verna looked up. "Why what?" 薇尔娜抬起头。“什么为什么?” "Why are you always so good to me." Sirius pressed her hand flat on the table, fingers spreading, then curling back in. "Why do you come looking for me when I have nightmares? Why do you coax me when I'm upset?" “为什么你一直对我这样好。”瑟瑞丝把手按在桌面上,五指张开,又缓缓收拢。“你为什么在我做噩梦了就跑来找我?不开心了就来哄我?” Verna set the book down. 薇尔娜放下了书。 "Are you a robot?" Sirius's voice spiked suddenly, carrying something long buried. "Don't you have feelings of your own? Every day you just sit here—reading, watching the moon, watching me. You never get angry. Never get restless. You never once say, 'I'm not in the mood to coax you today.' You—" “你是机器人吗?”瑟瑞丝的声音陡然拔高,带着某种被压了许久的东西。“你没有自己的情感吗?你每天就坐在这里——看书,看月亮,看我。你从来不生气。从来不烦躁。你从来不说一句‘我今天没心情哄你’。你——” Her fingers clenched the table's edge. 她的手指攥紧了桌沿。 "Why do you have to make yourself the one who saves me?" “你为什么非要让自己成为那个拯救我的人?” The last word fell, and the room went still but for the sound of breathing. Sirius's shoulders shook—like a cornered cub baring its teeth at last, not to strike, but because it was terrified. 最后一个字落地,屋子里只剩呼吸声。瑟瑞丝的肩膀在发抖——像一只被逼到角落的幼兽,终于龇出牙来,不是为了攻击,而是出于恐惧。 Verna said nothing. 薇尔娜什么都没说。 She watched Sirius in the quiet. Moonlight spilled through the window, silvering her scales, lighting the rims of her eyes—though no tears fell. She was gritting her teeth, waiting. 她只是安静地看着瑟瑞丝。月光从窗外倾泻而入,将她的鳞片染成银灰,映亮她的眼眶——但并没有眼泪落下。她咬着牙,等待着。 Verna rose, walked around the table, and stopped before her. 薇尔娜站起来,绕过桌子,停在她面前。 "I didn't come to save you," “我不是来拯救你的。” she said, very softly. 她轻声说道。 "Then what did you come for?" “那你是来干什么的?” "I came…" “我来……” Verna hesitated. Her hand lifted, then dropped. Finally, she just reached out—gently, slowly—and took hold of Sirius's fingers where they gripped the wood. One by one, she loosened them and drew them into her own palm. 薇尔娜顿了一下。她抬起手,又放下。最后,她只是伸出手去——轻轻地,慢慢地——握住瑟瑞丝攥紧桌沿的手指。一根一根,掰开,然后拢入自己的掌心。 Sirius didn't pull away. 瑟瑞丝没有躲开。 "I came because I wanted to," Verna said. "When you have nightmares, I come looking for you because I can't sleep, either. When you're unhappy, I coax you because if I don't, something twists inside me, too." “我来,是因为我想来。”薇尔娜说。“你做噩梦时我去找你,是因为我也睡不着。你不开心时我来哄你,是因为我不哄你,我心里也一样难受。” She looked down at their hands. 她低头看着她们握在一起的手。 "I have feelings of my own. And this is my feeling: I want to be beside you. Not because you need me. Because I need to be beside you." “我有自己的情感。我的情感就是——我想待在你旁边。不是你需要我,是我需要待在你旁边。” Sirius went still. Her lips parted, but no sound came. She stared at Verna's profile, at those dark and quiet eyes. There was no savior's glow in them, no machine's indifference—just something clumsy, unnameable, but entirely present. 瑟瑞丝愣住了。她嘴唇翕动,却发不出声音。她望着薇尔娜的侧脸,望着那双暗沉而安静的眼睛。那里面没有拯救者的光辉,也没有机器的冷漠——只有某种笨拙的、难以名状的、却真切存在的东西。 "…Then why didn't you just say so?" Her voice had gone hoarse. “……那你为什么不早说?”她的声音已经哑了。 "You never asked." “你没问。” Sirius tightened her grip. "I'm asking now." 瑟瑞丝攥紧了她的手。“我现在问了。” "Mm." “嗯。” "From now on, whatever I ask, you answer." “从今以后,我问什么,你都要答。” "Alright." “好。” Silence drifted between them. Moonlight rested on their clasped hands. 沉默在她们之间流淌。月光栖在她们交握的手上。 After a long moment, Sirius lowered her head, her voice thick. 过了很久,瑟瑞丝低下头,声音闷闷的。 "…Come here." “……过来。” "What?" “什么?” "Hold me." “抱我。” Verna stepped in and wrapped her arms around her, gentle and sure. Sirius buried her face in the curve of Verna's neck and went perfectly still. 薇尔娜上前一步,轻轻抱住她,动作温柔而确定。瑟瑞丝把脸埋进她的肩窝,一动不动。 A while later, she mumbled: 过了一会儿,她闷声嘟囔道: "Left side. Your heart is on the left." “左边。你的心脏在左边。” "Mm." “嗯。” "So is mine." “我的也在左边。” "Mm." “嗯。” "When we hold each other, they don't meet." “抱在一起的时候,它们贴不到。” Verna didn't answer. She only held her tighter, one hand stroking slowly down her back. 薇尔娜没有回答。她只是把她抱得更紧了些,一只手缓缓抚过她的脊背。 "Then what?" Sirius's voice had a faint catch in it. “那怎么办?”瑟瑞丝的声音带着一丝鼻音。 Verna thought for a moment. 薇尔娜想了想。 "Then left against left." “那就左边贴着左边。” "But—" “可是——” "Turn around." “你转过来。” Sirius lifted her head and looked at her. Moonlight fell across her stubborn face, across the faint gleam of her scales. Slowly, she turned, her back to Verna—then stopped. And turned back. 瑟瑞丝抬起头看着她。月光落在她倔强的脸上,落在她微微发亮的鳞片上。她慢慢地转过身去,背对着薇尔娜——然后停住了。又转了回来。 Face to face. 面对着面。 Verna reached out again, arms circling her waist. This time, their left chests pressed together. Through cloth, through scales, through the cage of bone—but they touched. 薇尔娜再次伸出手,环住她的腰。这一次,两人的左胸贴在了一起。隔着衣料,隔着鳞片,隔着骨头的囚笼——但贴着了。 Sirius laid her hand between them. No space left. 瑟瑞丝把手按在两人胸口之间。没有缝隙了。 "…They're touching," she said, very softly, as if testing something fragile. “……贴到了。”她轻声说,仿佛在确认某样易碎的东西。 "Mm." “嗯。” "What you said before. Was it true?" “你刚才说的那些,是真的吗?” "Which part?" “哪一句?” "That you need to be beside me." “你需要待在我旁边。” Verna looked at her. 薇尔娜看着她。 "Every word," she said. “每一句都是。” Sirius said nothing. She slid her hand from between them, looped her arms around Verna's neck, and buried her face back into her shoulder. 瑟瑞丝没有再说话。她把手从两人中间抽出来,圈住薇尔娜的脖子,重新把脸埋进她的肩窝。 Beyond the window, the river of stars turned, slow and soundless. 窗外,星河无声地缓慢流转。 A long while later, a muffled voice rose from the hollow of her shoulder: 很久之后,闷闷的声音从肩窝里传出来: "…You're not a robot." “……你不是机器人。” "Mm." “嗯。” "And you're not allowed to be my savior." “你也不许当我的拯救者。” "Alright." “好。” "You just stay beside me." “你就在旁边就好。” Verna smiled, faint and soft. 薇尔娜轻轻笑了。 "Alright." “好。” The moonlight lay over their pressed-together chests. One heartbeat, then another—two rhythms, out of step, yet beating through the same thin cloth. 月光照着两人贴在一起的胸口。一下心跳,又一下心跳——两种节奏,并不合拍,却隔着同一层薄薄的衣料跳动着。 —Like those nights when you finally stop asking why someone is good to you, and just let yourself be held. ——就像那些终于不再追问“你为何对我好”的夜晚,只是允许自己被接住。