I am ashamed to say that I consider myself not stupid, but it took me a long time to finally grasp what is right and what is wrong in human society.
There is no one-size-fits-all standard. It's as if someone slapped on the forehead and decided this is "good" and that is "bad"; and I have to live my life within the constraints of such arbitrary rules.
.
The adoptive mother said that you should not do anything that actively causes harm to others - whether it is mentally or physically.
So if I take something I want from a big chain store, who am I hurting?
For example, Wal-Mart (I want to use an analogy that you can understand), as a company, has neither spirit nor body, nor lack of money. If I take something, who will cause harm? However, this is not allowed.
It's really weird to do.
You may have realized that, yes, when I was a child, I had no way to measure and judge individual cases based on a certain principle. I judged whether I needed to disguise myself based on the reactions of others, which is similar to the self-preservation instinct of animals; but
I didn't know that I needed to pretend because what I was trying to do was wrong.
It’s not a matter of whether I am willing or not, but that I simply don’t have the ability; the so-called good and evil, right and wrong, are like white noise to me, so vast that I can’t distinguish shapes and boundaries.
Maybe I haven't developed this ability now, I don't know.
"You are a very special child, but like every child, you represent many possibilities and hopes." My adoptive mother would tell me, "I will tell you the good and the bad bit by bit.
It doesn’t matter if you can’t judge, you just need to remember them all.”
Once, I asked tentatively: "Why can't I hurt others?"
Other parents might say, "You don't want others to hurt you even if you compare yourself with others." Such words are meaningless to me. Of course I won't let others hurt me, but does that mean I can't?
Hurt others? The two have nothing to do with each other.
The adoptive mother thought for a while and said: "Because you will attract the hatred of others. Human beings are social animals. Even you cannot live alone without human society... Surrounded by hatred and punishment, your life will be difficult.
It's going to be painful."
I deeply agree.
The adoptive mother said: "If you are in pain, I will be in pain too."
I do not understand.
"Why?" I was less than ten years old at the time, and I had completely stopped pretending in front of her. Sometimes what I said was so direct that even I was surprised: "If it wasn't imposed on you, why would you be in pain? If you
If I get hit by a car, I won’t feel uncomfortable.”
When the adoptive mother heard this, she lowered her head and looked at the watering can in her hand. The skylight shone in from the window, reflecting the bright colors of the oil-painted arrowroot, which made the skin of her lips turn white. "I know." She finally said softly.
Say softly, "I am in pain because I love you."
I turned a deaf ear because I thought of a loophole and immediately asked: "Then as long as I don't get caught by others and don't arouse the hatred of others, that's it, right?"
"You can try it," the foster mother said still calmly, "just think of it as a challenge. You do something you want to do but the rules don't allow it, and see if I can catch you.
How about it? I'm not a police detective, but if even I can catch you, you will naturally have to live according to the rules I teach you, right? "
At that time, I completely underestimated how many resources an adult—especially a highly intelligent person like my adoptive mother—could have and how much she could accomplish; essentially, what an unfair challenge it was. But I
Feeling competitive, I immediately agreed.
As a result, not only was I noticed and stopped, but my adoptive mother also took me to their home to apologize.
I don't think that what I did was something I shouldn't have done at all, but I still have to apologize to mediocre and low-quality people for it. It is really no different from a public humiliation; but I think my adoptive mother must be clear about this.
Chu.
She wanted me to taste a little of the punishment after being caught doing bad things.
"Let's do it again." I had noticed at that time that my adoptive mother had an inexplicable tolerance for me. As long as I didn't "cross the line", she was always willing to try her best to meet my requests. "This time doesn't count. I'm not prepared.
good!"
In this way, a kind of "hide and seek" game formed between me and my adoptive mother that only the two of us knew.
We only played this strange hide-and-seek game four times; in the end, the ten-year-old me finally reluctantly admitted that it was very, very difficult to escape the supervision and restraint of this society, and it might not be worth the risk.
.
After I remembered the good and the bad little by little, the next step was to practice self-control and find a reasonable way to vent.
As a child, I had extremely high self-control, but just like a serial killer who can't help but kill, no matter how high my self-control is, I can't endure it forever.
My adoptive mother thought of many ways, introducing me to tragic classics one after another, documentaries about vicious events or phenomena, taking me to museums commemorating wars and massacres, etc... Human beings pride themselves on having morals and rules.
However, the evil and crimes they committed are enough for me to slowly appreciate and never see them all in my lifetime.
It's just that it won't work if it's my turn to do the same thing. Normal people can do it, but I can't. This has to be said to be a kind of hypocrisy full of irony.
It's hard to imagine that other people would feel any emotion other than "satisfaction" when experiencing those things.
I once saw a girl shedding tears at a lecture venue for survivors of some incident. She seemed very sad. I watched her tears with almost fascination and felt her fresh, beating pain at a close distance.
——Fresh food is always better than dry food. At the same time, I was wondering again: Why are you crying? This has never happened to you.
My adoptive mother pinched me with the tip of her fingernail, which caused a little pain.
When I looked at her confused, she said: "The back of your hand hurts, and the back of my hand seems to be hurting too. The same is true for other people. When they see other people's pain, it seems like they feel it themselves, so
I just cried... It doesn't matter if you don't feel this way, as long as you can have the correct reaction."
She said she loved me; then, does that girl also love to be a survivor of the speaking event?
I walked over and handed a tissue to the girl who was crying.
My adoptive mother never mentioned a word about my education to my adoptive father. I only discovered this after I entered adolescence.
The period from when I was less than six years old and came to my adoptive parents' home to when I was fifteen years old was probably the most satisfying and peaceful time for my adoptive father. With my adoptive mother watching over me, I certainly had no chance to do anything; he would test me from time to time.
Educate me, generally speaking, always happy with the conclusions he reaches.
My adoptive father was very proud of me at the time, especially since I had been admitted to a top university and would be leaving home to enroll in college in the fall. But to be honest, his pride in me had no weight on me.
No matter how much he appreciates me, is satisfied with me, or worries about me, if he suddenly encounters misfortune, he still cannot stop me from getting satisfaction from him.
The same goes for adoptive mothers.
I am ashamed to say that people like me can also be affected by the hormones of puberty and develop rebellion and resistance.
Once, my adoptive father happily talked to my adoptive mother about how to judge individual cases more accurately. He had a lot of experience to share with her. I don’t know which detail or clue made me suddenly understand that this was
The adoptive father said proudly to the adoptive mother in an educated way, "Look, I was right, you were wrong."
I discovered the best way to take revenge - yes, I felt like I was taking revenge at that time.
My adoptive mother had a two-day symposium in a neighboring city, which was my only chance. I knew that the emotional torture I liked required a long time of preparation, and even if the conditions were met, the results were often subtle and difficult to detect;
In order to achieve maximum results directly, I have to use methods that I don't enjoy so much.
I strangled my neighbor's dog.
What the adoptive father saw at that time was his son, whom everyone admired, kneeling on the grass with his back to him, holding a dog that was gradually dying under his hands.
Although this kind of brutal killing is not my first choice, if I want to say how dissatisfied I am, that's not it. I watched it struggle desperately, kicking with all four legs, digging up the grass and soil on the ground, and there was a lump in my throat.
It whimpered, but just couldn't make a sound (I can teach you how to stop the trembling of the vocal cords); at the moment of death, its eyes were still looking at the neighbor's fence. I thought that dogs also have certain intelligence, and perhaps until the last moment, they
Hope to see the owner appear...
I won’t tell you what happened next, but you might be able to imagine it.
All I had to say was, "I have wanted to kill him for a long time, but it was only because my mother was watching over me that I took advantage of her absence." It was enough for my adoptive father to put all the pieces together: how wrong he was and how embarrassing it was.
The insult, the ridiculous fact that his married wife has been kept in the dark, the terrifying reality of the person he is facing... As a normal person, a rich and delicate person, you will definitely be able to come up with more exciting and complex stories.
mood.
That night when the adoptive mother came home, they talked for a long time.
It was the first time I heard my adoptive father actually let out that hoarse cry like a wolf; it was short, only a few times, and then everything became quiet again behind the bedroom door.
I think he may also love me in a small, sad way.
Whatever love was, after that day, my adoptive father's love for me ended. They became a quarrelsome couple and went to marriage counseling several times a month; but the root of the problem was me.
Ah, I can't be solved by marriage counseling.
On the day I killed the dog, I said a lot to him. So much so that every time I approached the kitchen knife rack, he would even become visibly nervous - how can you expect people to live in such a tight environment all the time?
What about in a stretched state?
"If you think you can cure him and influence him with love, then please do so." Finally one day, the adoptive father's string broke. "I will not continue in this toxic environment full of deception.
Wait for one day. You are completely trapped in the savior hallucination, and you need help! But unfortunately, I can't help you."
The adoptive mother was sitting on the sofa in the living room. I had never seen her look so pale. Her elbows were on her knees, and her body posture was very tight, as if to protect herself; I had learned to read at that time.
Some body language, I plan to study the major of foster parents in the future.
She pursed her lips and her eyes lost focus. She sat on the sofa in that helpless and self-protective posture, watching her adoptive father make a decision; watching her adoptive father go upstairs; listening to the sound of the wheels of the suitcase;
Signed the document on the coffee table.
With the same posture, she nodded to the relatives and friends who came to visit her, watched the movers' truck stop, and watched the boxes leave like a stream.
When the door was finally slammed hard by her adoptive father for the last time, she seemed to be shocked by the impact. She woke up from her daze and saw me sitting beside her in the dim house outside the window as it was getting late.
I was looking at her without blinking.
My adoptive mother looked back at me. She knew very well what kind of monster I was, but she didn't hide her emotions.
"I'm in pain, Dao Yi." She said, tears falling. "He is my best mentor and friend. He has been with me for so many years and always supports me, especially when I can't give him anything."
We brought children, so when I wanted to adopt one... it was all because of you, and I know that."
I listened without saying a word.
"I hate what you did to me, but I don't hate you." The adoptive mother said softly, "The day I decided to love you and accompany you, I was mentally prepared for the backlash. I know that I made a decision for you.
What are the rules... I hope you can abide by the rules because I know that the world will not be tolerant to you. But I will."
I waited for satisfaction to arrive, but it didn't arrive. I sat on the chair opposite the sofa, and just said goodbye to the last bit of rebellion at the age of fifteen.
This is the closest emotion to "love" that a monster like me can have.