[1] Tearing

When I opened my eyes from this man's body, I never imagined what kind of life awaited me that was even more bizarre than crossing.

The carved beams and paintings from the perspective mean that I am reborn in an era that dates back thousands of years. Surprisingly, however, at this moment of rebirth, "I" was standing.

Someone is controlling this body, but this person is not me, I think, it should be the deity of this body.

I couldn't understand this bizarre situation, I didn't know what kind of being I was, a separate soul, or something immaterial that had nothing but consciousness?

No, I soon learned that not only did I have consciousness, but I also had a normal sensory system, and I could even feel uncomfortable, unbearable discomfort, and it wasn't a ** feeling, but mentally, psychologically, emotionally -- yes, I seemed to be able to empathize with the emotions of this deity, he was sad, I could feel it, but I never knew that a person could be sad to such an extent, Words can't express it, but I experienced a more intuitive sadness from this man— I looked out of his eyes, from the sky to the earth, from the corners of the eaves to the mess, it was all gray, a gray world.

At first, I thought he was completely color blind, but soon his line of sight overturned my assumptions. He saw the blood, the blood all over the ground was red and dazzling, and I found that there were dead people here, not just one, but dozens, hundreds, dead all over the place, everyone had their heads cut off, and every corpse was gray, but the blood gushing out of each corpse was red.

I was so shocked by the situation that I forgot everything, I wanted to close my eyes, I wanted to scream, but I found that I couldn't control this body at all.

The man stood straight in the pile of corpses, in a world of only gray and blood, his grief and pain were too much for me to bear, but I knew distinctly that at that moment, there was no expression on his face, he stood upright, his hands behind his back, like a cold executioner, looking at the execution ground at his feet without pity.

Then he moved, opened his legs, and walked steadily, step by step, I don't know what it was, a man's strength, or a masochistic bearing?

The man walked through the courtyard full of corpses, he seemed familiar with the place, and around and around, he found what he was looking for.

The reason why he knew that it was what he was looking for was because in the gray world under his sight, only that person was colored.

The man, dressed in a robe as blue as the clear sky, stood at a distance, as if he felt something, and suddenly turned his head to look at this side, handsome, and smiled brightly—yes, he could still laugh, and waved his hand at it, and said a word with his mouth.

I couldn't read lip language, but the man I possessed could understand it, so I somehow understood, and I naturally interpreted the words of the man in blue in my head.

He said: Don't be sad, I don't blame you, it's okay, you will come to play with me in the next life.

And then he died.

He was poked with a finger on his body and fell to the ground without a sound.

At that moment, how to put it, I never knew that grief was such a textured thing, it was like having two huge hands grabbing the left and right half of your body respectively, and then tearing your flesh and bones in half with such force.

It just hurts.

People who know me say that I have no heart and no lungs, but at that moment, I was in such pain that I couldn't die immediately, and the man I possessed was still able to stand firm and not move at all.

He stared at the corpse of the man in blue, looked at it for a long, long time, and looked at it carefully, from the hair to the dirt on the soles of his shoes, he didn't let go of every penny, as if he wanted to engrave this person firmly in his mind, and he would not blur any details about him for ten thousand lifetimes.

I don't know that the mental pain can be thousands of times the pain of **, I am so painful that I desperately want to escape from this **, even if the moment I leave it, it will be gone. I wanted to escape, but the pain grabbed me tightly, as if even this ** could no longer bear the pain, I had to find a carrier to divert and share it for it, and there must be another outlet to vent.

I struggled and struggled to get out. It wasn't until the man turned away, leaving the body of the man in blue far behind, that I felt his grief reach its apex, and then those two huge hands finally tore him apart fiercely, tearing apart his flesh, bones, and even spirit.

Years later, I still don't want to remember the feeling of being torn apart.

There is no way to describe it in human language, not even in the language of the universe.

However, no one will know that the pain is torn, it is not the colorful chapter of this tragedy, it hurts so much that it is torn into two, and another personality is derived for himself, which is used to repeat this tearing day and night to punish himself, which is the saddest part of this man's life.

[2] Coexistence

Coming from that era when my brain was full of holes, I was quite receptive to the bizarre thing that I possessed after crossing over.

The only thing that makes me feel special is that I didn't dominate this ** like in the movie or in the movie, this ** deity's soul is actually there, I put it on when he was alive and healthy, and he has always occupied the dominant position of this **, and I am like a sudden extra accessory, squeezed into this body with his soul.

What is more depressing is that although I am also a serious, intact soul, I do not have any power to control this ** behavior, I can only be forced to see what he sees, touch what he touches, perceive all his senses, access all his emotions and thoughts, and as a bystander, passively manipulated by him, at his command.

It's a very uncomfortable feeling, and it makes me feel like a special person.

So more often than not, I am willing to comfort myself like this: I can be strong to "get on" a healthy and alive old man (body), Lao Tzu's cliff is a strong attack.

As for why I can "go on" a living person, it took me a while to figure out the reason, and the conclusion seems to be even more bizarre than if I got on a living person - if the place where the soul dwells is called a "Horcrux", then a person's body can usually only match the only Horcrux, the only soul, and this person, when experiencing that extreme grief, his spirit suffered a heavy blow, and his Horcrux was torn in two, so there was an extra place in ** that could accommodate the soul.

Psychologically speaking, after suffering from great mental stimulation or under great psychological pressure for many years, people often fission or derive multiple, independent personalities and separate ways of thinking, which is schizophrenia in the common saying, and in the metaphysical sense, there are two or more souls in a body.

All in all, it's a psychopath, but this guy was lucky enough to meet my soul before he tore the Horcrux apart but didn't have time to split it, so I found a place to live, and he avoided becoming a real psychopath, so we were both whole - and, because he was born nervous, the cliff and I didn't have a dime.

In the early stages of possession, there were many discomforts.

Every morning I wake up and look at the unfamiliar face in the mirror, no matter how handsome I look, it is not as pleasant as looking at my own face, not to mention when I take a bath and when it is convenient, I feel the body of another man in my hand - this is like having a relationship with this person.

The great luck in the misfortune is that this man has no bad habits and no sports at hand, otherwise I would have been able to use him with a Horcrux.

Thankfully, all of his bodily senses are my feelings, and even if I eat something I didn't like to eat before, my stomach and taste buds will not be disgusted, and it will often produce pleasant brain feedback.

Although it doesn't bother me in terms of sensory feelings, it still makes me feel uncomfortable from time to time in terms of behavior and habits.

For example, as long as he is not busy, he has to practice words almost every night before going to bed, and he has practiced for a long time, and he is tired of writing thousands of brush words, I really want to vomit, even if he reads a book, I can still follow the pastime, it is much better than staring at the black and white characters, once this bastard nervously wrote the word "dad" six hundred times, so that Lao Tzu directly collapsed and said that he didn't know "dad".

Whenever this happens, I feel a sense of irritation that I am being detained and forced.

You can imagine that you are forcibly shackled in a "one-person-wide" cage, although you can still see, hear, feel, and live like a normal person, but no one can hear what you say, everything you do is not out of your original intention, it is forced, and you can only listen, watch, and be forced to do it, like a puppet that is controlled, an invisible person abandoned by the whole world, and even the person who controls you does not know your existence, no matter how you ask for this** or scolding, to no avail.

Who can imagine what it's like to fail again and again, get no response again and again, and go crazy alone again and again?

I used to think that the most terrible thing was to be paralyzed in bed, you have all the feelings, but you can't speak or move.

But now it seems that at least there are people who can see you when you are lying in bed, someone who will try to understand your intentions, and you will not be forced to look at your body and do things that are completely out of your mind.

So I finally understood that the most terrible thing in this world is not to be paralyzed in bed, nor to be unable to live, but to want to die, not to die.

The author has something to say: everyone for a long time...... Waited...... "Who am I, where am I, what am I doing?" finally landed......

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This three chapters are as usual.,What's the matter!