Xiao Xia, my mother's body, in my head, often has a lot of voices, these voices will say to me, what should be done, what should not be done, sometimes they don't even pay attention to how I respond, and they quarrel with each other excitedly.

As we get older, the types and styles of these voices become more and more diverse, from the first friendly voice in my head, giving advice when my mother is having trouble making up her mind, to the emergence of some critics who talk about it, and then to a group of critics who are nitpicking. For one thing, there are many people who start to gossip and make suggestions, or gather around to say cool things, and my mother is often in a mess in her head.

When I was a child, things were much simpler, and my mother would often listen to the voice of wisdom that was the only one in her heart. When you can't make up your mind, as long as you hear the voice in your heart, your mother will do it without hesitation. That's probably what the heart wants.

But later, these voices became more and more, although my mother would listen carefully to every different opinion, and each party would understand and experience it in detail, just like holding a company meeting, brainstorming and thinking about the countermeasures of life, but it was still difficult to find a direction in the complexity.

Not only that, but the endless thinking made my mother completely unable to relax, and the world was as empty as a vacuum, but it was filled with a low noise like being crossed by countless electricity.

Where do these voices come from?

When I was a child, my first conversation with my mother was very special, she was a humorous and English speaker. Since her mother was a teenager, she has often appeared, with countless cute and self-deprecating jokes, comforting her mother when she is nervous. As soon as she heard her voice and spoke to her in English, her mother would be amused and her whole body relaxed.

At that time, my mother was studying in her own room, explaining in English what she had just learned, and listening to her give teasing feedback. At that time, we were a pair of best friends, one talkative, the other full of encouragement and humor, and we were together all the time.

In fact, to this day, she has always been there, but we are no longer best friends, she rarely appears, only when her mother is harvesting flowers and cheers, she will come to the icing on the cake, when her mother faces the mirror, or walks off the podium alone, she will appear and say a few witty words. And most of the time, she didn't say a word, and her mother didn't know if she was still around.

Maybe she's Mom's proudest other self. In that era, the girl who was full of self-confidence and believed that the world belonged to her created another self with overflowing enthusiasm, and she shared her mother's joy and growth at that time, and became the best friend.

Later, my mother began to become a little unconfident, and within a few years, she even experienced the feeling of confusion for the first time in her life. Mom remembers looking up in the examination room that day, the sun shining in through the window, and the tall trees and the building opposite could be seen outside, and the students in the back, the students on the right, and the backs of the students in front were all silent and steaming. A boy shook slightly, rubbed the roll forward with a small movement, his mother knew that feeling, the feeling of being engrossed, very excited, feeling that the whole world no longer exists, only a sense of achievement, with a little uncertainty, but confident, this is the feeling, my mother saw his few completely imperceptible movements and knew that he was full of confidence in himself.

The girl in the back of the front row is lying on the table, she is short, unlike the boy, her movements are even more indistinguishable, as if she is completely still, she is like falling asleep, answering questions quietly, and her mother remembers her deeply. Not only that exam, but my mother also remembered that her handwriting was small and clear.