Previous Life's Gold - My Life Notes

Author: Lin Bai
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-11-01
Features: Fear has been with me since childhood. When I was young, my peers were surprised to learn that I later became a journalist. She remembered me as a particularly timid girl who didn’t talk much and seemed very frightened. Fear, panic, and terror are all roughly the same state. Having lost my father since childhood, I lacked a sense of security and had to handle everything alone. A child living alone in a large house, always prepared to face the ghosts that emerged from the darkness. It wasn’t just ghosts—everything felt oppressive to me. I feared dogs, cats, and people. I was afraid of strangers as much as I was of familiar faces, even of my own relatives. I feared my mother. If she entered the room while I was inside, I would find an excuse to leave. If she was already in the room, I would try to avoid entering. As I grew older, I feared going to work, attending meetings, making phone calls, pitching stories, and conducting interviews. Some of these fears have been overcome, while others may never be. The world is cold, and even among family, there isn’t enough warmth. My heart is cold and dark. As someone with psychological issues, I struggle in this world, facing various difficulties, often feeling fragile, helpless, and desperate. I’ve always believed that literature is a great support for the weak. Relying on literature brings warmth, and relying on it brings light. Now, I am a grateful person, thanking the heavens for allowing me to have a close connection with literature. Literature gradually helps me overcome fear and makes me not ashamed of my own fears. By observing my fear and writing about it, it becomes the literature of my own self.
Anxiety I thought I was no longer anxious. Yes, why should I be anxious? Everything is fine, and the sky won’t fall. Recently, I attended a small gathering and met a friend who had never read my novels. As the gathering neared its end, he announced to everyone that he had already realized I was an anxious person. I was surprised because I didn’t think I was anxious at all. I asked him how he discovered it—was it through my language, actions, or expression? He said it was my eyes. Does a person who has ever been anxious always have shadows in their eyes? In 1996, I was particularly anxious because I lost my job. I thought I would soon have no food to eat, and what about my daughter? What if I got sick? Many people might think this is exaggeration—how could I not have food to eat? It’s not the old society anymore. But I firmly believed that if I got sick, I really would have no food. And while I was healthy, I had to keep writing to earn a living—writing things like “To Feed the Rice,” which could possibly be good? If one day I couldn’t write anymore, my daughter and I would have no food to eat. Truly, that was what I thought at the time. Moreover, I didn’t believe others would help me, nor did I believe my works would continue to be published to earn me royalties. Every time a book came out, I thought it was the last one. I would buy several copies of my own books because there would be none left after that. I would imagine years later, someone touching a few books and reflecting on their life. I’ve always been skeptical of light and warmth. Sometimes, I’d have an epiphany and boldly decide, “Let me starve to death,” and consider myself a saint. When