The scariest creature in the world is called someone else.

my closest playmate when I was a child was my cousin, who was three months older than me and grew up under the eaves of a house. she was a relative, neighbor, classmate, friend, so she was also an enemy. When we always quarrel over a trivial matter and quarrel with each other, we start to fight, get entangled, try to pull each other's hair, scratch, buckle a small seam of meat, pinch it hard, and keep it so painful that the other party screams again and again. Back off. But once the beating happens, the parents of both sides will intervene, and my mother and her mother will have to do it again, which involves too much, arouses conflicts at the top, and affects the great unity of the family. It is mainly a struggle, an explosive struggle, a struggle full of righteous indignation. Looking back on my childhood, no matter where my nostalgia went, my cousin raised her nose and stared at her small mouth, and struggled to distinguish her face. The topic we are arguing about is also very small, the Altair or the Vega, the snake or the scorpion, your family has money or my family has money. One said, "your family has money, and you have a TV set." One said, "your family is rich, and you have a new house." One said, your family has money, your family has a bike. One said, "your family is rich, and your family eats meat every week." If the next one has nothing to say, he will be so angry that he won't speak for half an hour. Before I was six years old, I was the first one with poor words.

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Every time after the war, I was so angry that I went to the pigsty to beat the pig, so that it ran all over the field and pig shit spattered, so that my mother wondered very much that she ate happily, but why didn't the pig gain weight? Later, I vowed to be ashamed and practice quarreling painstakingly behind closed doors for a week. The emperor lived up to his heart, and finally, on the morning of the seventh day, I realized.

from then on, the art of swearing advanced by leaps and bounds and was almost invincible. over the past few months, she was so angry that she dared not enter my door again. I saw her on the road, bowing her head like a wilting dog's tail grass. This trick can be done immediately, and the trick of thousands of horses is actually very simple, that is, to move out of "other people". Like the last argument. If I were the next one, I would say, "your family is rich. That's what people say." In front of this powerful, mysterious, mighty and creepy "other person", my cousin immediately stopped with a look of fear. Oh, is that really what they said? Is there a fake? Who is it? A lot, as to which one it is, you don't need to know. Sometimes to enhance the effect of expression, more credibility, so that she has no doubt, I will make up some characters, scenes, plots (the talent for making stories showed sharp corners at that time) to make her believe. "really, when I went to the bathroom the day before yesterday, I heard someone talking about you. They said you were ugly and stupid, and they didn't even want to play with you. I was still shitting, so I made me swear not to tell you." Later, I saw that she could not straighten up in the shadow of "others". She became self-abased and fragile, spoke softly, walked with too many worries, and dared not to tell the truth, let alone pursue what she really wanted. I learned to speculate on other people's faces since I was a child. My aunt is a person of true temperament and often talks about her in vain. "how can Jin Jin be so timid? she is not energetic at all!" At that time, I didn't feel bad about my conscience at all. On the contrary, I naively thought that I had won the eight-year War of Resistance against her. When I realized the horror of this kind of behavior, I was already in my teens, and at that time, ambushing "others" also invaded my life and interfered with my thoughts and demeanor.

The hospitable person who introduced "others" into the family with this hobby is my father. This middle-aged man spends all his life talking about other people's children, other people's wives, other people's houses, other people's cars, and embellishments to convey other people's bad comments on our family. In that tile house in the 1980s, with a loud voice and squinting eyes, he attacked me in front of me, using the same tricks I used to my cousin to treat him in his own way. You idiot, you don't know what people say about you? I immediately became nervous, scared, and curious, and forced him to go on. What happened to me? what did people say about me? I don't even want to say it. Say you're proud, say you're earthly, say you're shameful, say you can't do anything well, say you're stupid enough to take medicine, say you're a bitch, say you're going to cry, say you've hit too much evil, say you've accomplished nothing, say you're rubbish. He talked on and on, year after year, and to this day, he still uses this language to talk to me. When young, it is easy to be psychologically hinted at. In these mean words and the contempt of "others", I feel that the world is full of hostility, swords, white eyes, and drooling. 

So it is particularly painful, tired of learning, tired of the world and dislike themselves, feeling that being alive is a kind of life imprisonment. I have not been able to eliminate this sense of insecurity excluded by society for a long time. To do a thing, the first thing to consider is the views of others. Will others approve of me if I do so? Will others feel good? Like Truman, he lives trembling in the eyes of others, in their evaluation system, and under the ragged rules laid down by others. Fortunately, finally stubborn, give up following the mediocrity, give up to curry favor with low-level public opinion, bent on going their way, just want to do one thing well, just want to be responsible for themselves, regardless of "others" gossip, seven, seven, eight, eight. If you think about it in this way, you will be free instead. Sartre wrote a claustrophobic philosophical play about the relationships, imprisonment, and freedom of others. The play is set in the secret chamber of hell. There is no mirror in the secret room. Without a mirror, people can only use others as mirrors and know themselves through others. All three protagonists are guilty: Garzan is a shameful deserter; Estelle is a nymphomaniac and drowning convict, and Ines is gay. There are no instruments of torture or fire in hell, and the only thing that tortures and constrains them is their relationship with each other.

they tortured each other, conspired against each other, and could not be liberated or free. "Why use the grill? he's hell." This sentence illustrates the horror of "others" with great accuracies, like a yoke that enslaves free will and forces us to make decisions that go against ourselves. For example, if you are reading this article, you must also go to a school you don't like. In the final analysis, they are all dominated by "others", want to be obedient, want to please, want to be recognized and praised by others, they are all dominated by "others", want to obey, to please, to buy clothes that they do not like, and to say things that go against their hearts. But later, you must also find that the gain outweighs the loss. With so many "others", it is impossible to cover everything even if you are tired of running. One day, when I look back on half my life, I find that I haven't done something worthy of myself. Almost all seriousness is spent on human relations rather than on the matter itself. Is it worth it? I have no idea. 'no matter what hellish environment we are in, we have the freedom to break it, 'Mr. Sartre said. If anyone does not break, it is also their freedom to put themselves in hell. 

Freedom of choice is freedom, and freedom of choice is also freedom. However, I still think that the child who is frightened by "others" like my cousin is pitiful. By the way, now, she lives a good life, married her husband, and had a baby, with a division of labor, no gossip, no bad news. Just, occasionally go to see her listening to only single-digit Weibo, my heart is very sad, because not a word is to express happiness.