Whose youth was as wild as mine

Author: Zi You
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-07-01
Features: Who Has a Youth as Wild as Mine – A 15-year-old boy’s perspective on life, death, love, and pain. Zi You, where free thinking soars in his works. Lying in the hospital bed, he reads, watches movies, writes The Last insolence of Hollywood and the heart-wrenching Niu Niu. Lying on the bed of his soul, he enjoys life’s jokes, revels in the tests of life, and sings a battle cry against youth. This is a truly brilliant and engaging collection of works. It meticulously records my thoughts and reflections at the age of 14. That year, two words filled every corner of my thoughts: illness and girls. Illness symbolized hardship, while girls promised hope. In the hospital ward, I accompanied illness, basking in its company; with girls, I first tasted the sweetness of longing. Over the past year, the experiences were thrilling and dramatic, as outsiders might see them. All I had to do was face them calmly, opening my arms to embrace each day. As the god of illness relentlessly exploded fireworks of death over my head, I sang the names of girls every day. All my free verse poems from that year were written for them, serving as a record of that period. Lying alone in bed, I could read my own soul. Facing myself, it felt as if the world existed solely for me. I learned to praise myself, to appreciate myself. Everyone should have a period of time lying in a hospital. The body is calm and peaceful; the thoughts are soaring and turbulent. I have countless plans, countless friends, countless family members, and countless loves. I love countless people, and I still have countless paths to walk. Youth, I declare war on you! Thank you to everyone who loves me, especially my mother. This is a truly brilliant and engaging collection of works. It meticulously records my thoughts and reflections at the age of 14. That year, two words filled every corner of my thoughts: illness and girls. Illness symbolized hardship, while girls promised hope. In the hospital ward, I accompanied illness, basking in its company; with girls, I first tasted the sweetness of longing. Over the past year, the experiences were thrilling and dramatic, as outsiders might see them. All I had to do was face them calmly, opening my arms to embrace each day. As the god of illness relentlessly exploded fireworks of death over my head, I sang the names of girls every day.