She's been away from me for about five years. Actually, I can't remember the approximate time, but I remember that she spent my childhood with me. She was an indispensable companion in my childhood.

She was my joy at that time.

I still remember her appearance: dressed in white clothes with green spots, with a pair of delicate eyes blinking.

When she was very young, I used to bully her, and listening to her howl, I felt a special pleasure. Gradually, she grew up, but she still followed in my footsteps from time to time, but I couldn't catch up with her compared to running.

That day, I was suddenly afraid that she would follow me. I drove her away with a hooked wire, but every step I took back, she followed.

I made a gesture to throw the wire over, but she was so frightened that she pulled away, and I ran away. At this moment, the wire hook in my hand caught the metal wire standing next to the wall, and because of the forward momentum, two terrible wounds were plowed from the wire between my right hand, and my hand was covered with blood. I cried.

I finally learned to ride. When I first rode to school, she chased me for thousands of kilometres.

I'm so proud that she can't catch up with me. By the time I looked back at her, she had turned her head away, leaving her alone back. I stared at her, and suddenly felt a little sad, and I didn't understand why.

I remember that she gave birth to many children, but they were all sent to other people's homes, and she did not say a word, silently handed over the children to the adults to dispose of, as if she was not distressed at all.

She is very intelligent and spiritual, and sometimes, she will dig a hole in the bamboo forest, drain the excrement into it, and then carefully fill the soil, so she never defecates in the open.

Once, she came back bruised. On the road near my home, I saw a group of children from other places hitting her with stones, she didn't scream, she lowered her head, and when she saw me, she raised her head, and color appeared in her dull eyes.

I was furious, and I wanted to go out and beat up the bunnies, but didn't they notice that the flowers never bite? I blamed her for running around, but she didn't speak, just looked at me and wagged her tail.

I don't know when I suddenly realized that flowers would frown. Sometimes I threw a bone under the table, and she didn't eat it, and I repeatedly instructed her, but she tilted her head, but she still didn't eat. She frowned, her face visibly helpless.

I realized that it was not easy for her. Hua never left me, but I never treated her well. By the time I realized it, her stomach was full of bones. Does she really love to eat white, hard-to-swallow bones, and where does her strength come from?

Many times, I want to ride her, like riding a horse. She was so frightened that she trembled all over her body, and hurriedly jumped forward, and I often threw myself into the air. I scolded her unhappily, but she didn't refute and still looked at me with a frown.

Why is she frowning? Is it because she can see that the old one is gone?

Adults are carrying responsibilities and missions, they have guarded my play with flowers, I feel inexplicably afraid, I have grown up, I can't find the sweet happiness of the past, do I also shoulder any responsibility, so that the distance between flowers and me is getting farther and farther away?

She's dead.

She was poisoned.

When I heard the news, I was shocked. I hurriedly asked her where she was, but the adults didn't answer. I couldn't see her body.

At that time, my heart was empty, as if I had lost something, I even wanted to break the body of the person who poisoned the flower, I didn't even want to go to school, I thought about feeling sorry for the flower at home for a while.

Years later.

She's back, but she's not her anymore, and now, she's called Rai.

She is not good-looking, she is black, her body is much thinner than that of flowers, and she defecates everywhere. I was disgusted with her, and I never gave her anything to eat during the meal, and even when she whimpered and she howled, I pretended not to hear.

She was so dirty that I kicked her hard every time I rubbed my legs.

She is completely incapable of replacing the position of the flower. I think.

Is that really the case?

I think of the figure of flowers. She tilted her head and frowned at me as if it had happened yesterday. I finally understood that she would never come back, and even if she came back to life and stood in front of me, she would never come back.

I'm not that me anymore, she's still the same she. It's like two friends who have a deep friendship, one day, she (he) left the other person, and when they meet again, they are strangers, and there is no longer that familiar taste.

If one party is interested, Xu will feel something, and it is similar to this, but the sad thing is that the other party is unaware, and even if he knows, there is a thick layer of invisible haze between the two. They were silent with each other, and all that was left was sighing.

Both Hana and Rai are the same dog. The biggest difference between a dog and a human is that only people have abandoned it, and it has never abandoned people. I often think that dogs are sad, stupid, and ridiculous.

Humans use its name as a name, and they don't know how many new uses have been derived, but they still stupidly do their best for them, and finally they are poisoned by people, thrown into the wilderness, or become a feast on the table.

However, when I think of friends, I don't abandon each other, but the other party can abandon me at any time. There's something that people can never do better than dogs. Maybe this is some kind of unknown sorrow, right?

And in the years of time/People chase and laugh/The sky is high and blue/The sun is warm and soft/The wind song is slightly light/New faces change again and again/Only their outward appearance remains the same/A dog is skinny/Shaking the tired and filthy body/Resisting the irresistible fate/Walking on the withered grass/Firmly following someone/But I don't know/This person's heart is already empty

In a society where darkness and light are intertwined, at school, I slowly realize that I am sometimes a dog. A dog that will frown. When I glance at the joyful students, I look at them the same way they looked at me five years ago.

April 16, 2016 diary