Notes of a Crocodile

by Qiu Miaojin

People in this city are manufactured and canned, raised for the sole purpose of taking tests and making money.

Being in college gave me a sense of vocation. It exempted me from an oppressive system of social and personal responsibility—from going through the motions like a cog, from being whipped and beaten by everyone for not having worked hard enough and then having to put on a repentant face afterward. That system had already molded me into a flimsy, worthless shell. It drove my body to retreat into a self-loathing soul, and what’s even scarier is that nobody knew or seemed to recognize it.

I’ll always feel love for them and have basic needs to be met, so it takes courage to draw the line. But if I don’t, my love for them and my needs will become bargaining chips that I have to exchange for my independence.

The college lifestyle is about becoming independent, with no one else around to force you to do anything. So there’s this muck that hasn’t been dealt with, and because all your arrangements are loose now, you have no one to hold on to, which means you get sucked into the vacuum cleaner and tossed around in it. Your automatic response is to grab hold of something and pull yourself out. My first instinct was to cling to Zhi Rou. I wanted her by my side all day, every day. I even made her sleep over.

“Resisting death. That’s what it comes down to. It’s like you’re on autopilot: No matter how much you hate life, your body doggedly resists death. Even other people aren’t allowed to die. You still try to stop them.” Meng Sheng scoffed. “What a joke!”

What is the human race, anyway, but a multitude of outlets for desires?

There’s no suppressing the truths that arise from our experiences. Desires teach us lessons, and we have to go forth into the new worlds that we construct for ourselves.” Chu Kuang’s voice trembled. “When you can’t, that’s when you die.”

It was impossible to hate you, though I tried. I knew there was no hope of running away or winning you back, but I still waited right where you left me.

There was no one I wanted to share my thoughts with. There was nothing I could do to lessen the pain, no source that I could pinpoint. Secretly, though, I did sort of enjoy being a fucked-up mess. Apart from that, I didn’t have a whole lot going on.

The evening air was cool. I was sitting at an intersection of Roosevelt Road and a brick road next to a musical instrument shop. The piano melody of “Thanksgiving” played in my head, putting me in a meditative mood as I took a few soft drags from a cigarette and reflected on the five years that had passed since I’d left home for Taipei. People had come into my life and left without a trace. Late at night, I sat in a desolate corner of the city, dispatching lone smoke signals.

Separation was the thing I’d been dreading the most these past few years, and I’d been in denial that it was a fact of life. Refusing to let go, I’d practically thrown a temper tantrum. What’s worse, my attempts to avoid separation had only hastened it.

I’d taken everyone I loved and killed them off in my heart, one by one. I’d long been tending their graves—secretly visiting and mourning during the day, going out and erecting a cross on starry nights, lying inside and awaiting my own death on starless nights.

‘Only healthy people are capable of being in love. Using love to treat an illness just makes the illness even worse.’

Man’s greatest sorrow is the loss of what was once his greatest desire.

“Why did you have to come back? I’d already found the perfect spot for you in my heart. Why did you have to ruin it? All I wanted was a way to love you for the rest of my life!”

Life is a process of awakening by degrees, in depth and in scope. At its most profound moments, you experience wholeness.

Human beings are endowed with both yin and yang. When you become too dependent on one, the other becomes inhibited. You have to let both sides develop fully.

You guys are amazing. In the past, I felt like I was amazing too because I was with him, so then I hid behind him, where it was safe. I don’t know when I started to accept my place, my permanent inferiority. Wherever I go, it’s never because I want to go there, it’s because I’m following the amazing people around me. I’m too enamored of your amazingness!” The last part came with a bitter laugh.

I no longer think of myself as an unhappy person—quite the opposite. Admitting that I have problems is a mode of optimism, since every problem has a solution. Unhappiness is a lot like bad weather: It’s out of your control. So if I encounter a problem that even death can’t solve, I shouldn’t care whether I’m happy or unhappy, thereby negating both the problem and the problem of a problem. And that is where happiness begins.

“You’re not a coward at all. You’re brave in a hundred ways, but you’re a coward in one, which is in love. Maybe it’s true that pain is an unavoidable part of existence, but some things are close enough to perfection, and they’re right in front of us. They’ve been there all along, you’re just not willing to admit it.