Chapter 3 wait

Every day I go to that small station on the state-owned tram line to pick up people, people who have never met anyone. After shopping in the vegetable market, I must stop by that small station, sit down on a cold bench, put the shopping basket on my lap, and stare blankly at the ticket gate.Every time the up and down trams arrive at the station, the crowd will come out of the train doors and flock to the ticket gates. Everyone will show their monthly cards or hand in their tickets, and then they will leave my seat without looking sideways. They hurried past the benches, walked towards the square in front of the station, and scattered in their respective directions from there.I sat in a daze.If someone greets me with a smile, I will be frightened, helpless, and uneasy.Even just thinking about it makes one's hair stand on end, as if a bucket of cold water has been poured on the back, and it is difficult to breathe.However, I'm still waiting for someone.Sitting here every day, who am I waiting for?Who are you waiting for?No.Maybe it's not people I'm waiting for.I hate people.No. (Exactly) fear of people.When I meet people, I greet them perfunctorily: How are you?It's getting cold... and stuff like that, when I always feel like there's no such thing as a liar in the world anymore, and the pain is unbearable.Moreover, the other party was also overly wary of me, chatting about irrelevant socializing and hypocrisy. For this, I felt sad for the other party's humble cautiousness, and I was so tired of this society.Is this how the world spends its life chatting with each other in rigid language, guarding each other, and chattering wearily?I hate meeting people, so in the past, as long as there was no special event, I never took the initiative to go to play with friends.Secluded in the house, sewing with my mother in relative silence was the most relaxing and enjoyable thing for me.However, World War finally broke out, and the tense atmosphere permeated the surroundings.I began to feel that it was bad for me to be the only one living in a trance, and I became restless.I want to work hard and be useful in the world.I have completely lost faith in my previous life.

Although I feel that I cannot sit at home silently, but when I go out, I have nowhere to go.So, after returning from shopping, I stopped by the station and sat on this cold bench in a trance, thinking wildly, sometimes expecting someone to come suddenly, sometimes fearing that someone's appearance would make me helpless, and sometimes harboring a kind of pessimism. Mental preparation: When he appears, I have no choice but to dedicate my life to him, because my destiny is determined by then... These fantasies are strangely entangled, filling my chest and making me suffocate.Like daydreaming, I don't know whether I am alive or dead, and I always feel alone and helpless.The scene of people coming and going in front of the station also made me feel small and far away, as if the telescope was turned upside down, and the world became a "core".Ah, what the hell am I waiting for?Maybe I'm a very loose woman, and it's helpful to be uneasy because of the outbreak of war and want to work hard.These are all lies.The fact may be that I am looking for a good excuse to realize my frivolous fantasy and peeping for a good opportunity.Sitting here with a blank expression, but a hateful plan is brewing in his heart.

Who am I waiting for?There is no clear image, just chaos.But, I wait.After the war started, on my way home from shopping day after day, I would drop by the station and sit on this cold bench and wait.If someone greets me, I will be afraid, I will be embarrassed, I am not waiting for you.So who am I waiting for?Waiting for husband?No.Waiting for a lover?No.Waiting for a friend?Hate.Waiting for money?how could be.Waiting for the undead?Oh no. I'm waiting for something more harmonious, radiant and beautiful.What exactly, I don't know.Like something like spring.No, not right.Green leaves?May?Clear running water passing through wheat fields?Nor is it.But I was waiting, waiting with excitement.People passed me in an endless stream, neither this nor that.Holding the shopping basket in my arms, I waited wholeheartedly with a slight trembling.Please don't forget me.Please don't laugh at me, a twenty-year-old girl who goes to the station to pick up people and returns empty day after day.Please remember me.I have nothing to say about the name of that little station, but even so, you'll see me someday.

[Translator: uu]