VAMPS - MY FIRST LAST [PV]

Mlmlxaxa's masterpieces

short life as if a dream

When weak and rebel are aggregated to one figure, that is the resource of a buskin. The sense of fear as well as the ashamed feeling linger in her mind, like two chains, prevent her from doing anything. In one perspective she is afraid of failure, the consequence and the price for rebel, for the mainstream does never allow that happen, her existing space will shrink and even disappear. The danger of crash is obvious. However, if she doesn't do so, the condemn inside her mind will also arise and disturb her from time to time, for she has no time to waste. She exhausted her energies and life in order to satisfy what others want, not for the voice calling her inside her body. Every quiet moment she afflicts herself by those unnecessary mind to other people, but she finds it necessary to herself because that's the most real consideration of her, and she is still not used to deceiving herself like some other people.

In stories and tragedies, the main characters who discard the classics and rebel against orthodoxy die in order to show their discontent towards the strong social forces. However in the real world, most of them choose to keep their present situation instead of sacrifice their lives. There are too many factors arrest them to do something extreme, but inside their hearts those two considerations always torture their conscience, until the moment they stop breathing.That's the price of existence, living sometimes is not real happy, it is really a kind of guilty, although most people comfort themselves that living is pursuing for happiness. They choose to do something seems to be happy, but actually desolate to them, instead of doing something according to their real feeling. It is really tragedy.

People who do not share the same sense of worth with society but have to obey the social rule have been broken their wings. Every one of them have invisible wings at first. Are they angels? At least I think so. They are never normal people, half infatuated and half muddleheaded, but innocent as clouds, no matter how they suffer losses in real world.Their wings are broken, and they can not fly away from this muddy world, they can only stay in front of the deathly still world, as the best funerary objects for those living corpses.

Maybe there's one day they will abandon all they have already obtained from the common customs. Social status, properties, families, and also the relationship with society, which gave them all of those things. Then they enter into the nothingness. People who love them will contribute all their tears, so that their bodies can float up, until they reach the fragrant void. How ideal this condition is!

Life is just a long dream, when we wake up, there's nothing really so important as we have imaged. Angels will finally find their choice is valuable, just at that time they have hesitated for too long.

Heaven Sight

keeping flowers

It is valuable to recollect the days of keeping those flowers, the reason is obscure, but there's one thing obvious, for my frame of mind has experienced a dramatic process, with the life transit of flowers.

One month ago, when I was younger, I often wander around the crowd of colorful flowers of a stall, and appreciate their beauty silently. It's funny because I even don't want others gain an insight into my mind, that I became an "anthomaniac", who will be laughed at in this generation, so I pretend to be just passing from the crowd, walking from this side to another, busy as a bee. Each time I only stare at them for a short time, but their beautiful images were deeply engraved in my mind.

The situation has kept for a week, and during the period I think if only I can see them for a moment every day I will be satisfied. However later on I found it was not enough at all, if I could own them, they would be able to show their beauty whenever they want! How eager they were at that moment! Though they never talk.

Thinking this way, I select a beam of flower, who I personally thought are the most beautiful one in the crowd. I couldn't define their name, but they are neither noble roses, nor elegant lilies; they are neither missish tulips, nor delicate jasmine. Their beauty is very direct, brave, and even rampant, the shape of their petals is the same as sunshine, and the most attractive part is the color, which is rosy red, neither bloody nor dim as purple ones. How bright the color is! Whenever they were fairly standing in front of me, the gloomy would be driven away from my heart. So I must bring them home! On my way back, with the rosy shine of flowers reflect in my face, the scene caught the eyes of many people; at that moment I was virtually the most elegant person in the world.

The first a few days past slowly, for every morning I woke up and every evening I went back home, they would be checked very carefully, from their bottom to the top, from their stems to pistils. After that I change the bottle of water contaminating them, and moisten a piece of cloth, wipe every petal of them, in order to keep them as long as possible. I grasped them with profound respect and humility, like there was a sleepy goddess inside my arms, I must not disturb her sweet dream. Every day I spent half an hour to take care of them.

The doleful time could be frittered away so easily, I felt like this for the first time. Talking to them was really amazing, although I felt shy at the beginning, later on I just sang a lot of songs and even cry as a witch to them. The feeling is quite different from when I was writing a blog, but also a little bit similar, no reaction actually from anywhere, but I can image it for numerous possibilities, happy, agree, or angry, disagree, from numerous different hearts. I was not familiar with the soul of the flower goddess, but I believed in her. She must have a most kind heart and be tolerant with all the naughty things I have done to her, and I have not even a little bit blasphemy mind towards her, every ludicrous behavior of mine was proceeded from the most respect purpose.

The flowers were kept much longer than I expected. Nevertheless, every life would tend to old and death. After the flowers reached the peak of their lives, they began to droop, and their stems were not able to support their chaplets gradually, and their proud petals furled inch by inch, as they were too shame to show their oldness to me.

Now that it is the unavoidable tendency, there was no driving force to keep me making the effort every day as before. I helplessly looked at them, with no tears in my eye socket, became droop day by day. The situation went down the drain, so I made a decision, I moved the flowers out of my sight, so that I could forget their death generally.

Strangely, the more I do to forget them, the more clearly I remember their oldness. I took them out and observed their droop after a certain period of time. After a few revisions, I have accepted their oldness peacefully. They would never be beautiful again, so there's nothing to do with it. Their beauty is always blooming in my memory, forever and ever.

Keeping flowers only once in a whole life is absolutely enough for me, for my poor memory can not contain too many images of flowers, and I know the goddess would feel jealous if I repeat the whole process for lots of times. Farewell, dear flower!