Chapter 2 destroy

1. she 1) Opposite my middle school is a famous church.Green gray, pale white.In the twilight, there are always various people looking up at it.Its sharp spire pierces the world.The sharp tops are entangled with the dense mist at dusk, giving off dark red light.It was the sharp needle that pierced the skin of the angel leaning over and looking down, and the angel was bleeding.At that time, I knew that this was the end of the day.When the night comes, the dirty stories are lined up and staged in different places at the same time.The angel is a mournful spectator who bleeds every evening.After the day is completely dark, the dirt and dirt on every sinful person will fall down one after another, and condense and accumulate into black scabs, which are the shadows of people.

I have always liked this imaginary story, the angel is a tragic and helpless redeemer, he bends his noble body to every mortal. Poor man, lucky man, bombarded by a sudden, great love.They ruin together.Angels exist in my heart as a boy I love.Angels should be like him.Cool complexion, long eyelashes.this is all.Such a person who suddenly came to me, I can also do not question the whereabouts of his lost wings.If he can't smile, I am willing to live in his sadness.Yes, that boy, I love it.Embed him into the bone, and even be proud of every painful crack. The wall, the wall of roses.Circle the lonely church.Roses never bloom amazingly, but their pink and white petals are like the broken wings of angels.Too light to hold a drop of dew.Rose pollen has no refuge in the strong wind.They fall.They landed on the eyelashes of a boy who stood for a long time.He sneezes.They liked this boy, he was as pure as an angel.

2) Boys are called "destroyed" by me. "Destroy" is a word with twists and turns like a jigsaw puzzle. "Destroy" is a character that shines on the fingertips of Miko's palm. I said to the boy, your appearance is a ruin to me.My life is like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle.However, he is an angel who bends over to me, the catastrophe, and I am destroying him. "Destruction" is like a wound of mine, so close to me, understand my pain.Is it the blood that surges above the wound, or the sparkling passion? He is like a water plant choking involuntarily in the water.So feminine.

He paints churches from every angle under the setting sun.He always poked his pale face out from behind the easel, gazed at the church in awe, and prayed for me, whom he loved.When he moves, the sacred cross on his chest will swing accordingly, telling a belief like the rhythm of a faithful old pendulum clock. The boy's footsteps are light, and the pollen on his eyelashes sleeps softly. Ruin, I love you, how much I don't want to admit it. 3) As I said before, ruin is a wound of mine, he cannot be seen by others. In other words, he can see people, but I can't see people with such a wound.

Ruin is a boy who loves boys.He loves his same sex, tall boys, long-legged runners, short hair, and sweaty smiles. He is a severely depressed patient.Often auditory hallucinations.Take medicine every day.He would cry weakly, he would feel cold at night.He was a sick painter, he was gay.We don't know each other.We are far away.And there are no signs to recognize.He studies art at a university.Lots of evenings painting the church across from my middle school.We often saw each other, knew each other but never spoke. I have had many boyfriends.We love, then parted.The dampness of love evaporates in the sunny day after love.No sore marks.

I just broke up with my tall boyfriend before I met Rui.He said a word, which strengthened my determination to separate from him.He said that love is like eating, and no one can just eat and quit. My eighteen-year-old love, I can't wash it off when he throws it so vulgarly into such a gutter-like metaphor.My pure white love has become dirty in his hands.I wash my love in my dreams, I cry while washing, my filthy love lies in my dream, no matter how I wash it, I can’t wash it clean. I admit that I have been living a noble life.I build my castle of roses in the air.Life hangs in the air.I need a prince whose palms will bloom my beloved details, those romantic flowers.He prefers candles to lamps, painting to basketball.He prefers coffee shops to gaming arcades.He likes literary films better than martial arts films.He prefers tragedy to comedy.He likes Murakami Haruki better than Wang Shuo.No, he probably doesn't like Wang Shuo at all.

My boyfriend finally knows how to send me candles, glass fish dishes.But I insist that we separate.Maybe just because of that metaphor. 4) March, March.Destroy me a letter.Indigo sky pattern, clean letterhead.Only one sentence: Let's love each other or die.I raised my head like, like a captured beast.If there is no room for it, sharpness is full of temptation.My skin gave way to the sides like dry sand.Wounds appear.Fresh blood. I looked out from the window on the third floor, and ruins passed by on the street outside the school.The clothes are very black and the face is very white, and the painting board behind him is colorful.The footsteps were thin and light, and the fingers trembled slightly.He is like a fish with a soft and smooth body in the deep sea, swimming in my sudden tears, and the new bubbles come out of his body.into my wounds.Then broken.

What is overflowing and full is something called warmth.I sense the beginning, the beginning, the solemn love.I'm destined to get entangled with this weed-like boy. I live in the clouds, unrealistic dreams.But after getting to know Hui, I found out that the cloud layer of the dream he lived in was higher than mine.He stretched out his trembling hand from a high place, and reached out to me, who was confused in a low place.Not strong, thick hands.Even the fingers are as slender as a woman's.But I can't resist. 5) The spring in this northern city is windy as hell.Dusky grainy snow fell, blowing east and west, but never melting.So I hate spring here.But I have seen a painting that Rui painted in the spring.Spring helped Rui complete the painting, and I have fallen in love with Spring ever since.The painting shows this church in the dusk of the strong wind and sand.And half a smiling face of a girl.The wet oily paint has absorbed a lot of dust that was originally free like butterflies.They are fairly neatly arranged on the screen, above the church with gray walls.It has become the skin of the church carved with years of stacking.A few of them climbed up the girl's cheek in the painting as mischievous little freckles.The eyes of the little freckled girl were bright pink.She kept laughing.She had never smiled so much, she had never smiled for so long, so her smile was like a rubber band that lost its elasticity, in a posture that could not be changed.There is also a dust with a legendary color.It landed on the girl's right cheek, under the eye.The location is just right.It's an oversized dust that looks warm and eerily scarlet.It just happened to interpret her tear mole.

Girl is me.The mole of tears, like a little beige flower, literally bloomed on my right cheek.I love the boy who is painting across the street.All my longing for love is that each of my tears can run across my mole and fall into the palm of my love.This would be the perfect home for those little broken pearls. I believe tears can seep into Rui's palm lines.It may rewrite Rui's fate.Rewrite his sick and disordered fate, let me, who loves him, run through his life. After we destroyed each other and loved and tortured each other, the painting still immortalized, the uncontrollable smile scattered from the picture, like Aladdin's magic lamp, lighting up my small room.But what a magical lamp this is with limited power, at most it rewrites my dream, destroys the makeup of an angel in the dream, and flies with new wings.My tears rinsed the pillow when I woke up.There is no ruined hand, no succession by his hand.So nothing can be rewritten.

6) Actually I know nothing about ruin.All the stories I know about Rui are told by him himself. has committed suicide.Liked boys.There are not mild auditory hallucinations.There is no fixed residence.Sometimes poor and sometimes rich.Believe in Christ. And the most important point: love me forever. I believe everything that is said.Those stories that sound scary to me are defined by me as his past life. The turbulent waves that have nothing to do with me at most make me more peacefully hope that my future life will be calm. Ruins run down the street outside my school, under the towering church walls.Time is always such a moment, no matter how unbearable he is, but I still believe that he is the angel who redeemed me, even if his wings are broken, even if he loses all his mana, and he can't even fight for his own happiness, he is still him. The clean green saved my love like sewage.

7) Ruin's all-time favorite fairy tale is.Of course he didn't picture himself as a burly prince, but he still liked the princess sleeping peacefully in the high walled castle of flowers, and then the prince came.In her dream, the princess smelled the slight fragrance of pollen on the prince's body (it was said that the prince must climb over a high wall covered with rose vines, so there must be a fragrance of pollen on his body), so she smiled sweetly, her cheeks were flushed.Both hearts beat fast as the Prince approached.Then he approached her.He hesitated, and she was anxious in the dream.Finally he kissed her.He kissed her.Pollen fell from his cheeks and eyelashes, and landed on the princess's porcelain-white skin, itching.She giggled in her dream.Then go through the dream and wake up. Huan always tells fairy tales delicately and movingly.He once told me many fairy tales.I would giggle like that princess too.But he spoke very differently.Because he kissed me when he finished speaking. He kissed me.Pollen fell from his cheeks and eyelashes.fell on my face.Itchy, but I didn't laugh.I cried.Tears take away the pollen, which is mellow.I would rather I was in a dream, or could walk into a dream and not wake up.I cried helplessly in front of that white face in that black night.He was extremely disturbed.He quickly separated from me, but the cross on his chest caught my clothes.The roots are broken, the roots are broken, we are destined to be like this. He took the cross from his neck and put it on for me.He said, look, God locked you up for me. The rope of the cross is very long. The word "ten" is very heavy.It glides quickly across the skin of my chest.Smooth and cool.It bred a stream.In my dry heart.Run happily. Rui took my hand and walked through a bush to the back of the church.The little butterfly with sparkling flower wings startled.I found that Ruin had no shadow.real.Behind him is a bright moonlight.For he has no ugly grime of man.He's clean enough not to scab. 8) Rui sent the painting he drew for me to a not so formal art exhibition.Some underground painters like him, and a small exhibition space.On the same night, the magical night of talking, kissing, and giving the cross, we agreed to go to the art exhibition together tomorrow.They pooled all the money and printed tickets for admission.It's beautiful, even better than the Disney tickets I've collected. He waited for me at the school gate all afternoon.Because we never exchanged any means of communication, nor addresses.Every time we meet is a heart-to-heart encounter.He gave me the ticket.He said he would wait for me here tomorrow.He is leaving.It was a night that made parting difficult for no reason.What is it that makes love into soft lotus root silk, light color, soft fragrance, swaying into a trace of regret.Destroy, I fell in love with you, you are sick, but I don't have time to wait for you to recover, too late, I have already fallen in love, how much I don't want to admit it. We said goodbye under the street lamp, and I emphasized the street lamp because I was looking for his shadow under the lamp.He was so clean that there was no shadow. He asked me to borrow ten yuan to take a taxi. He has no money.I was more nervous than ever when I handed over the money.This is our first planned date.I'm afraid we'll miss it tomorrow.Really, people who know nothing about each other have since lost their whereabouts. I took out a pen and wrote my phone number on the reverse side of the money.He was very happy.He said, really, would you leave me a phone number?He got into a taxi.We are still saying goodbye.Bye bye bye bye.We talked on and on.The grumpy driver growled.He just closed the car door.go far. We've still lost all contact.He didn't show up the next day.I waited and waited in front of the church.Wait, wait, I look up at dusk at the hole pierced by the church steeple in the sky, and I see blood escaping.I suspect that my shadowless but sick angelic lover has left from here. I don't know anything about him.even names.I've been to college art departments.I described his appearance in detail.People who know him say that he dropped out of school due to suicide half a year ago.Since then, there has been no news. I had to rush to the exhibition site.It was the last day of the Depressed Art Exhibition.Unhappy painters have already dispersed with meager income.There are a few paintings left for sale.I found the painting ruined for me.i want it.But no one can tell that the blurred half of the face in the painting is me.No one wants to believe that the love between me and Rui lasted from March to September without a mailing address or phone number. I decided to buy that painting.It's so cheap it hurts my heart. I moved back to painting.I used to watch from outside the church walls.flowers or the sky.Imagine that exit in the broken crimson clouds at dusk.Or ruin has already passed it and left. Often my phone would rustle when answered, but no one spoke.The strange thing is that I always feel that the rustling sound spreads a fragrance.Aroma of rose pollen.It keeps me alive and healthy. 2. He I said goodbye to the girl I loved on that amazing night.It was a farewell that we would rather choose to continue and continue.Bye bye bye bye.We talk on and on.The grumpy driver growled.I just closed the car door.go far. She gave me a piece of money.It has her phone number on it.For the first time, we have a way to connect.This is very important to me.I am a patient.I dare not ask for anything, not even a phone number.She cried when I kissed her and my confidence was shattered in that moment.My strange-looking patients all jumped out instantly, auditory hallucinations, delusions.But now she called me, and she invited me into her life.She does love me.I am ecstatic.I love this number and this money. Suddenly, suddenly I was reluctant to spend this money.It records a precious piece of money that she fell in love with me.The car has gone far, far away.I suddenly yelled to stop.I said I have no money.I get off.The driver appeared to be drunk.Very bad tempered.He kept looking at the money in my hand.He said that you have money and don't pay.I quickly packed up the money and said no.He got angry and started getting out of the car and beating me.I know I can just write down the number and hand over the money.But you know what, for the first time I wanted to be brave.I have always been cowardly.I even liked boys.I urge protection. But now it is very different.I love a girl, madly in love.I decided to protect her when she handed her the phone number.So I can no longer be cowardly.I decided to desperately keep this money. This is the first fight in my life.I know maybe this is the last time.I never fight.My fight back was so feeble.But I still insist that this is a two-way fight and not a beating.We fought harder and harder.The money is tightly held in my hands.I'm a boy, man, and I'm going to learn to protect my lover.This is my first lesson. I found the murder weapon he swung.He might just be trying to scare me, he's wobbly.The knife is mine, I killed myself with the same weapon, so I'm not afraid.But it's ridiculous, how I don't want to die.At this moment, he asked me to hand over the money over and over again.It's only ten bucks.He must have been angry that I fought back impassionedly.He's one of those very masculine men I used to like who tended to just do it for a gamble.I used to like such a person, but later I envied such a person.Now, I want to be one of those people too.This is my first battle of courage, and it cannot be lost.The entry of the knife into the body was purely accidental.Because his expression was more frightened than mine.It's different from last time.Last time I knew I was doomed.But I live.This time, I knew I wanted to live, but the blood was lost resolutely.This is what he doesn't want to see. He is obviously a hooligan, but he may not have killed anyone.He escaped.He gave up the ten-dollar note in the hands of the dead man. Hey, I won.The blood in my body gushed joyfully, celebrating.I'm dying. I fell in love with my first girl six months ago. Six weeks ago I drew a picture of her with a long smile. I kissed her sixty minutes ago. I had my first fight six minutes ago. I won six seconds ago. I still have breath.I have two options in my last breath.I can remember the license plate number of the murderer who has not yet driven away, and take the information of my enemy to another world to liquidate. But I chose to remember my lover's phone number without hesitation.My future residence is unknown.Ah, I fly, so fast.It seems that the spell of opening the door with sesame seeds can penetrate her pure soul. My last act on earth is to unfold my money.Remember the number.