His teeth were sharp, his eyes were fierce, and the hard, compressed biscuits made a "creaking" sound in his mouth.

His features were submerged in black hair, and his outline was blurry.

He finished eating a bag of compressed biscuits and drinking a bottle of water before finally sighing.

He looked up, his eyes hidden in the long black hair, and when he looked at me, he didn't know what he meant.

He didn't say thank you, but he told me a story.

The story about him.

To make this story clear, I will tell it in the first person.

From now on, 'I' am not me, but this dark-haired weirdo in front of me.

The following is the dividing line, from the eccentric's own statement.

————————————

I didn't look like anyone else since I was a child.

My hair was vigorous, long black hair that ran from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, from my cheeks to my fingertips, and I was like a doll trapped in a ball of yarn.

My mother was a well-known psychiatrist, who was well received by the state and was respected.

My mother cured teenagers who were addicted to the Internet, the mental illness of murder and arson, the depression of depression, and the feudal superstition of believing that there are ghosts in the world.

But it didn't cure me.

According to my mother, I had this condition, called atavism.

Anavism, also known as hirsutism.

But I don't seem to be the same as normal hirsutism.

My teeth are sharp, my eyes are ignorant, and I learn to walk and speak slowly.

But my IQ is not low.

I can easily get the bananas that my mother kept in a cage, I can easily pierce bulletproof glass or steel plates, and I can communicate with people in close proximity, although there are very few opportunities for communication.

My mother wouldn't let me go out.

My mother said I wasn't good enough, good enough, to go out and play with the kids.

I always sat on the balcony and stared blankly at the view.

I thought, it's so blue.

Later, I became famous.

Reporters come to interview, TV stations come to report.

Countless people stood in front of me, holding long and short cameras, asking me some mentally retarded questions.

For example, one plus two equals many, and five minus three equals many; For example, a lion has several legs, and a tiger has several heads; For example, what plants reproduce autologously and what animals are mammals.

At first, I was surprised and replied earnestly.

Every time I gave an answer, these people cheered in amazement.

They breathed heavily, their eyes were excited, and when they looked at me, it was as if they saw a plate of delicious fatty meat.

I hate that look.

My mother patted me on the back, soothed me, smiled and said something to everyone I didn't understand, and then took out a piece of paper with questions for advanced mathematics written on it.

Taylor unfolding.

If you don't know the formula, you're in luck, don't be curious.

You'll be deranged by that dense array of characters.

This is not something that people should learn in the first place!

I shrunk back, and I'll do that.

My mother taught me this a month ago, and when I couldn't learn it, she put me in a cage.

She smeared me with honey and filled the cage with ants and cockroaches, and bees.

Do you know what it's like for an ant to crawl into its body?

Do you know what it feels like for a cockroach to burrow into its ear?

Do you know what it's like for a bee to bite your lip?

I know.

It's painful and itchy, sour and numb, and it's better to live than to die.

I begged my mother with tears in my eyes, but I only received a cold reply.

She said, "Memorize it, get the question right, and I'll let you out." ”

I endured the pain and desperately tried to memorize these wacky characters in my head.

Eventually I remembered, I learned, and I was able to solve the puzzle easily.

My mother's eyes were cold and her voice was gentle, and her slender hands caressed my back.

"Look, I said you could do it."

I shuddered and hung my head.

At that moment, I felt so strange to the mother in front of me.

Like a monster with a blue face and fangs, like a monster in the dark abyss.

Oh, and one more thing, I forgot to mention.

I have a boring life, there is nothing I can say, I have become accustomed to it.

Until one night, I woke up in the middle of the night in a daze, only to see my mother.

She crouched beside my bed, close to my ear, her breath wet and sticky.

She said over and over again: "You're human, you're human, you're human......"

I closed my eyes tightly, shivering, afraid to speak.

I'm human! Why did the mother do this?

Unless......

I was in a cold sweat and didn't dare to think about it anymore.

From that day on, I couldn't sleep late at night, and I would always see my mother's slender shadow slowly walking slowly, crouching beside my bed, whispering.

I wanted to open my eyes and ask her why she was doing this.

But I didn't dare.

I'm afraid of ants, I'm afraid of cockroaches, I'm afraid of bees, I'm especially afraid of sheep.

Black goat.

The mere mention of its name makes me tremble.

I don't even dare to think about it.

Off topic, where did you just go?

Oh yes, I solved advanced math in front of all the journalists.

The exclamations came and went, and their eyes as they looked at me slowly changed from curiosity and affection to prudence.

One by one, they asked questions.

"How did you learn that?"

"Do you think this question is difficult?"

"Do you usually feel convenient in your daily life?"

“……”

There are many kinds of questions.

There was a man who caught my eye, he was wearing a round top hat, black sunglasses, white gloves, and he was covered all over his body.

The corners of his mouth curled up in a strange way.

He asked, "Have you ever seen a chimpanzee?" ”

I was stunned for a moment, and everyone fell silent, staring straight at me, expecting my answer.

My heart was beating fast, my breathing was heavy, and I looked at my mother in a panic.

She gave a stiff smile that she had never shown to me.

She said, "I'll see you later." ”

They gave me professional tests, polygraphs, and a couple of well-dressed doctors and professors stood beside me to observe me.

It was as if I had become an object.

An exam that brought me good news.

My mother said I could go to school.

Go to college.

My mother told me that there were peers in college who would be good friends with me.

There would be handsome boys playing with me, playing basketball, playing soccer, running in the sun, sweat wetting my hair.

There will also be beautiful girls who like me, walk around the park with my fingers clasped, kiss me in the corner, and comb my hair.

In my mother's description, college life was so good and beautiful.

Even beyond all my imagination.

In reality, however, it is quite different.

When I walked into the campus in jeans and a T-shirt, I saw frightened faces and shouted resentment.

Several students blocked the doorway, holding banners and shouting, "Get out of here!" ”

It was as if I had been hit in the back of the head by a sledgehammer, and my eyes were shivering.

I subconsciously hugged my mother's arm and looked at her as if asking for help.