camouflage

Opening my homepage always gives me a feeling of being in another world. Time flies by, and he remains silent.

I'll be leaving Hangzhou in a little over 20 days. Everything's packed, but I feel like something's missing. I haven't left Hangzhou in 22 years, but this time it feels like moving house, and I don't even know if I'll ever come back. Lately, no matter which street I'm walking on or which intersection I'm standing at, I subconsciously remind myself of something: the world is so big, and anything could be the last time.
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Grandma's passing didn't have the dramatic impact I'd anticipated; it was rather uneventful. I seem to have accepted the world's predetermined course—birth, aging, illness, and death are perhaps just part of life. It was July again, only four days apart. Nine years later, my mindset is completely different. Grandma seems to live on in my memory: the weekend meals, the drums, and the inexplicable mahjong. After someone disappears from your life for a long time, even if they were incredibly important before, you can calmly accept their departure.

Upon closer examination, I realize how vulnerable I am. After losing my grandparents, my father is left with only me. What will his life be like if I leave?

My sister is pregnant, my sister-in-law is pregnant, and I'm about to become an uncle. But I'm still vulnerable. I'm waiting for someone to enter my world and mend my heart. Does that person even exist? Everyone is pretending; will I also pretend and just drift through life? True happiness seems so far away...