I come from a place.
Perhaps many of the characters I have played would find it a boring place, and only a few of them would find it quite interesting.
The labels I put on everything I've ever met come from the people I've met...or as I put it, the colors of those people I've met and acquired.
There, an insignificant fool called Father. The mediocrity often makes trouble, and he appears too little, so I won't show it for now; the woman who plays more roles is called the mother. She also has no wisdom, but she is better than hysterical, and her actions are eye-catching. At a glance, she is quite interesting, or "selling point" ” - Of course, this was my opinion when I recalled it later.
Although not smart, she was indeed the first person I imitated since I fell to the ground. She was the first person I saw in the years after I can remember, and the only one during that time.
I used to think that all "others" in the world were that stupid. Fortunately, this conclusion is wrong.
Otherwise, this world must be very boring - this is also the emotion I expressed later.
I studied her reactions, her actions, her gifts, her actions. Observing her and learning from her were once the only tasks in my world.
Until I met the second person.
Amid her screams and curses, I gradually felt profound boredom—a new emotion that I only noticed when I met the second person.
That should be my father? To be honest, I really don’t remember what the man called father looks like.
They all seemed the same, with shallow features, similar reactions, and not revealing their past to me.
Only boredom is the same.
Then I was finally allowed to walk outside.
I discovered that people in this world can have more colors.
By conscientiously imitating a specific peer around me, I could choose to live a life similar to him or her in school, and that was how I lived my life. During that time, I was very happy - this was also a newly learned emotion. Although I had seen smiles in the room, it never felt real.
I studied their every move, studied their joys and sorrows, and predicted what they wanted to continue to do-and lo and behold, I really could do it.
They are so manipulative that even if I just take away a piece of rubber, I can weave their subsequent actions into a web and derive the final outcome step by step.
Just like a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a tornado in the distant sky, I can make the butterfly's wings flap just right and blow strong winds where I want.
It's an interesting story that I created.
Everyone's variables are in my predictions. Their lives are too simple and have almost no additional variables. Because of this, they can be regarded as the best playground by me - I have never found a more interesting playground than this. field.
But games that are too simple will always make people bored, and a single toy will also make people bored.
My sight finally extended outwards, and I suddenly discovered that there are many people in this world.
There are also many colors available and understandable.
Of course, the world out there is complicated. To control it, to control them, I still need some time.
The woman who calls her mother seems to have given up something, but still hates something. She talks about boring and repetitive words every day.
I had no time to pay attention to her self-pity. After all, when she kept yelling and scolding me in a world where I was alone, she probably didn't think about my existence. Maybe this kind of revenge meant that I learned to hate? Actually no, it should be an emotion borrowed from others. Sometimes I feel a deep resentment. After returning to myself, I feel indifferent. No matter how I think about it, I feel that this is a straightforward past with no new ideas.
Real hatred shouldn't be all the time.
I got a lot of people's colors and tried to manipulate a lot of simple and clear stories.
Then, much later, I discovered someone very special.
That person's name is Meng Shanshan. She is also among the "peers" and should have been the easiest color to obtain. But to my chagrin, I discovered that some of her behaviors seemed beyond my expectations.
How can this be?
I spent a lot of effort on her, constantly updated my understanding, and discovered more truths.
The truth was more exciting than I imagined, and I vaguely felt my own excitement.
This is the story...
This may be what I want. I am feeling my own emotions while waiting to see how they change.
What happened next was not what I expected, and it also exceeded Meng Shanshan's own expectations.
I reflected on myself that I should have gotten more people’s colors in order to finally come up with the right answer.
The world is big.
There are more things I can do, and there may be more wonderful stories in this world.
But before I could fully think about it, I was influenced by that woman again. To be precise, it wasn't just the impact, I almost died - but I survived, and by chance, I survived her crazy knife.
I am angry.
Different from the past, the emotion this time should belong to me, because no matter what color it is, there is still a kind of anger in my heart.
Maybe she is indeed a little bit special, maybe because a few years of being unique really made her feel different in my mind?
I tried.
And successful.
This was not a small experiment, everything happened exactly as I thought. I started to observe more people, understand their stories, and extract their colors.
The reason I can get different colors from different people is because I never really had my own. Even if you have it, it's only for a brief moment.
Can I read other people's colors? No, I get their color from participating in their past, and thereby, playing in the palm of my hand their future.
Maybe I should be sad that there is nothing unique about me? Or...should I be sad, depressed, and at a loss for what to do?
I discovered it again.
Actually...I enjoy it.
I am happy to be such a ridiculous joke, and I am happy to frame their lives by understanding their colors. I found their stories and brought closure to them.
It's simple, for me.
Then everything fell into place and was under my control.
I also have a favorite story - although I have forgotten which color this long-lasting love comes from, it is warm enough for a person without color like me to be deeply affected by it, but no matter what, this is what I do The source of everything.
First, the birds swallowed all the crumbs, then the brothers and sisters were lost in the endless forest, and then the witch presented a sweet candy trap - and the most dangerous crisis began.
At the end of the story, the witch was killed in the fire, the brother and sister escaped, and the feasted birds disappeared.
It flapped its wings and left the ruins behind, indifferent.
Maybe? One day I might meet a stupid brother and sister, or a clever witch.
Just because it is still one of the most common ones in the forest.
That's exactly who I am.
What I most wanted to accomplish was accomplished, and I discovered a new secret that was closely related to a certain color I had witnessed.
I was curious, but it's a pity that I couldn't witness their early ending - this will always be a regret of mine.
My desire for knowledge cannot be satisfied, and I vaguely feel that I, who have no color, actually have a desire to understand from the bottom of my heart.
Maybe... a narrator will come and make me a deal
Is it possible that this kind of thing will happen?
