This is my last bit of capital, earned by picking bottles for three days and three nights. I will always remember how humiliating I looked a week ago when my landlord kicked me out for unpaid rent. At that time, I went through my entire phone contact list, one by one. On WeChat, I asked anyone who even seemed to have the slightest hope of borrowing money. In the end, among dozens of friends, I only managed to borrow 30 yuan.
Although it’s only been a few days, for me, this torment has felt like an entire century.
Someone might ask: why not get a job? Even working in a factory to screw things together would be better than picking up scrap. If nothing else, delivering food is also an option.
I want to say that everyone has their own hardships that are hard to live with. I also once planned to get into a factory and accumulate contract principal. But do you know what? When the heavens decide to crush you, they don’t need a reason. Losing money on a trade isn’t the scariest part—the truly terrifying thing is losing your fighting spirit, leaving you unable to sleep at night, and living in a daze during the day. This kind of mental torture is far more painful than physical suffering. I… these past few months, I’ve been in exactly that state.
I want to sleep well, but all I can think about are regrets—resentment, unwillingness, and anxiety that my life will just end like this.
Back then, when I felt stifled, I could talk to good friends and borrow a little money. But after they found out I’m playing contracts, and that I’ve been in debt for years without paying them back, one by one, they started to distance themselves.
Now I feel like a stray dog by the roadside—born and fading into silence. I guess one day I might drop dead under a bridge, also quietly, without anyone noticing.
Early this morning, when I went through the trash bins to pick up bottles, I adopted a stray cat that had been abandoned by someone. I didn’t give it a name, because I know that even if I did, no one would ever know what it was called.
I’m posting this not to sell pity or ask for sympathy, and I don’t need anyone’s tips. I just want to record this disgraceful past.
$ZEC
Although it’s only been a few days, for me, this torment has felt like an entire century.
Someone might ask: why not get a job? Even working in a factory to screw things together would be better than picking up scrap. If nothing else, delivering food is also an option.
I want to say that everyone has their own hardships that are hard to live with. I also once planned to get into a factory and accumulate contract principal. But do you know what? When the heavens decide to crush you, they don’t need a reason. Losing money on a trade isn’t the scariest part—the truly terrifying thing is losing your fighting spirit, leaving you unable to sleep at night, and living in a daze during the day. This kind of mental torture is far more painful than physical suffering. I… these past few months, I’ve been in exactly that state.
I want to sleep well, but all I can think about are regrets—resentment, unwillingness, and anxiety that my life will just end like this.
Back then, when I felt stifled, I could talk to good friends and borrow a little money. But after they found out I’m playing contracts, and that I’ve been in debt for years without paying them back, one by one, they started to distance themselves.
Now I feel like a stray dog by the roadside—born and fading into silence. I guess one day I might drop dead under a bridge, also quietly, without anyone noticing.
Early this morning, when I went through the trash bins to pick up bottles, I adopted a stray cat that had been abandoned by someone. I didn’t give it a name, because I know that even if I did, no one would ever know what it was called.
I’m posting this not to sell pity or ask for sympathy, and I don’t need anyone’s tips. I just want to record this disgraceful past.
$ZEC
