美丽男孩

伴随着影片最后八分钟的落幕和音乐，我很想表达一下我对这部电影的喜爱！

首先，当我看到十分钟左右的时候，我就已经很怀疑豆瓣上的这个评分，看到后来我越来越不服气这个评分，我去IMDb上去搜了评分——7.3，要知道甜茶同样出演的《call me》在IMDb上也只有7.9的评分。因此，豆瓣上一些大V顶着流量的旗号，影响着一大批观影者的评判，当然不少时候我也是我刚刚说的那样，是一个被影响者。

电影的摄影构图绝对是精心的，我截了几张我很喜欢的图片。摄影一直保持着高水准的构图，有黄金分割，有中轴对称，整个画面一直都保持着很舒服的状态。

配乐是丰满的，虽然有几个片段显得故意了一点，honestly，但整部电影的配乐是让我融入情绪的重要配件。重金属摇滚和亲和钢琴，还有促进情绪的配乐，都很能借助音乐表达情绪。

再说剪辑手法，个人而言我很受用时空交叠的描述方式，因为当这样的手法是文字写在书上的时候，是会引起无尽的想象的。当然有一两个地方，这种剪辑用过了，造成了理解上的些些偏差。

很多童年片段的重演，是导演对人生前后的差别表达，也是剧情的一部分。

文学与艺术方面，诗歌的介入，摇滚乐的介入，小团体忏悔式的自述的介入，无不都在掀起一些列的情绪波澜，电影的价值是在无形中被赋予的。

很多人觉得这部电影，剧本太弱，甚至有说它是一部「禁毒宣传片」。我个人的感觉是，如果不去真的用情感带入，应该会很难理解情节上的反复重复；而且一再突出的「禁毒宣传」让他们情感上很难平静得去融入电影里。

剧本不弱，情感线更不弱！父子之间的感情线，从童年讲述起，一路贯穿成长。非要在这样的电影里讲述一个动人的感情故事吗？非要像寻亲那样悲鸣吗？父亲的信任变化与情感变化，是写实的；继母的情感也是真实的！

说起情感，难道，桌子上那封写给「漂亮男孩」的信，所要传递的，不够吗？冲浪的回忆对比，不够吗？写作在整部电影里出现的意义，与充满黑暗色彩的日记本，不够吗？不能够揭露内心吗？

说到写作，我很明白，一个擅长或忠于写作的人，是能够从写作中找到解脱的。这也是为什么电影总是在强调Nic需要写作，写作是一个人得到解脱，最廉价也最昂贵的方式，昂贵在很多人不愿意借助文字表达内心。

我喜欢这部电影！我觉得这个评分大家给的太低了！

我大胆猜测大家评分只有三星的主要原因是，大家不爱这个题材，觉得毒品电影就应该拍成《湄公河行动》？？？

Either peace or happiness,

let it enfold you

when I was a young man

I felt these things were

dumb, unsophisticated.

I had bad blood, a twisted

mind, a precarious

upbringing.

I was hard as granite, I

leered at the

sun.

I trusted no man and

especially no

woman.

I was living a hell in

small rooms, I broke

things, smashed things,

walked through glass,

cursed.

I challenged everything,

was continually being

evicted, jailed, in and

out of fights, in and out

of my mind.

women were something

to screw and rail

at, I had no male

friends,

I changed jobs and

cities, I hated holidays,

babies, history,

newspapers, museums,

grandmothers,

marriage, movies,

spiders, garbagemen,

english accents,spain,

france,italy,walnuts and

the color

orange.

algebra angred me,

opera sickened me,

charlie chaplin was a

fake

and flowers were for

pansies.

peace and happiness to me

were signs of

inferiority,

tenants of the weak

and

addled

mind.

but as I went on with

my alley fights,

my suicidal years,

my passage through

any number of

women-it gradually

began to occur to

me

that I wasn't different

from the

others, I was the same,

they were all fulsome

with hatred,

glossed over with petty

grievances,

the men I fought in

alleys had hearts of stone.

everybody was nudging,

inching, cheating for

some insignificant

advantage,

the lie was the

weapon and the

plot was

empty,

darkness was the

dictator.

cautiously, I allowed

myself to feel good

at times.

I found moments of

peace in cheap

rooms

just staring at the

knobs of some

dresser

or listening to the

rain in the

dark.

the less I needed

the better I

felt.

maybe the other life had worn me

down.

I no longer found

glamour

in topping somebody

in conversation.

or in mounting the

body of some poor

drunken female

whose life had

slipped away into

sorrow.

I could never accept

life as it was,

i could never gobble

down all its

poisons

but there were parts,

tenuous magic parts

open for the

asking.

I re formulated

I don't know when,

date, time, all

that

but the change

occurred.

something in me

relaxed, smoothed

out.

i no longer had to

prove that I was a

man,

I didn't have to prove

anything.

I began to see things:

coffee cups lined up

behind a counter in a

cafe.

or a dog walking along

a sidewalk.

or the way the mouse

on my dresser top

stopped there

with its body,

its ears,

its nose,

it was fixed,

a bit of life

caught within itself

and its eyes looked

at me

and they were

beautiful.

then- it was

gone.

I began to feel good,

I began to feel good

in the worst situations

and there were plenty

of those.

like say, the boss

behind his desk,

he is going to have

to fire me.

I've missed too many

days.

he is dressed in a

suit, necktie, glasses,

he says, 'I am going

to have to let you go'

'it's all right' I tell

him.

He must do what he

must do, he has a

wife, a house, children,

expenses, most probably

a girlfriend.

I am sorry for him

he is caught.

I walk onto the blazing

sunshine.

the whole day is

mine

temporarily,

anyhow.

(the whole world is at the

throat of the world,

everybody feels angry,

short-changed, cheated,

everybody is despondent,

disillusioned)

I welcomed shots of

peace, tattered shards of

happiness.

I embraced that stuff

like the hottest number,

like high heels, breasts,

singing,the

works.

(don't get me wrong,

there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism

that overlooks all

basic problems just for

the sake of

itself-

this is a shield and a

sickness.)

The knife got near my

throat again,

I almost turned on the

gas

again

but when the good

moments arrived

again

I didn't fight them off

like an alley

adversary.

I let them take me,

I luxuriated in them,

I made them welcome

home.

I even looked into

the mirror

once having thought

myself to be

ugly,

I now liked what

I saw, almost

handsome, yes,

a bit ripped and

ragged,

scares, lumps,

odd turns,

but all in all,

not too bad,

almost handsome,

better at least than

some of those movie

star faces

like the cheeks of

a baby's

butt.

and finally I discovered

real feelings of

others,

unheralded,

like lately,

like this morning,

as I was leaving,

for the track,

i saw my wife in bed,

just the

shape of

her head there

(not forgetting

centuries of the living

and the dead and

the dying,

the pyramids,

Mozart dead

but his music still

there in the

room, weeds growing,

the earth turning,

the tote board waiting for

me)

I saw the shape of my

wife's head,

she so still,

I ached for her life,

just being there

under the

covers.

I kissed her in the

forehead,

got down the stairway,

got outside,

got into my marvelous

car,

fixed the seatbelt,

backed out the

drive.

feeling warm to

the fingertips,

down to my

foot on the gas

pedal,

I entered the world

once

more,

drove down the

hill

past the houses

full and empty

of

people,

I saw the mailman,

honked,

he waved

back

at me.

无论是安宁还是喜乐

让它包围着你

在我年少懵懂的时候 我觉得这些东西

很愚蠢 而且过于真实

我愤世嫉俗 思想扭曲

经历了一个很危险的成长过程

我曾像花岗石一样坚硬

斜睥太阳

不相信任何人 尤其是女人

我把狭小的房间变成了地狱

摔碎和摧毁了很多东西

穿过玻璃 咒骂着

我挑战着身边的一切事物

我不断地被驱逐和监禁

在频繁的打斗和自己的思绪中进进出出

女人是用来折磨和责骂的

我没有男性朋友

我频繁更换工作和搬家

我讨厌假期 婴儿 历史

报纸 博物馆 老奶奶

婚姻 电影 蜘蛛 收垃圾的人

英式口音 西班牙 法国 意大利

核桃和橙色

代数使我生气

歌剧让我反胃

查理卓别林是个伪君子

鲜花是给娘娘腔的

在我看来 安宁河喜乐是自卑的表现

是软弱和混乱心灵的寄居者

但当我继续我的巷战

近乎自我摧残的岁月

跟无数女性发生关系时

我慢慢发觉 我并没有什么与众不同

我跟他们是一样的

他们的内心充满了仇恨

被无谓的抱怨所掩饰着

和我在小巷里打架的人都是铁石心肠

每个人都在互相一点一点地推搡着前进

只为路一些微不足道的利益而弄虚作假

谎言是他们的武器 但是毫无计划

黑暗是独裁者

有时候我会小心翼翼地让自己感觉良好些

我在廉价的出租屋里找到了片刻的宁静

只需盯着梳妆台上的把手

或者是黑暗中聆听下雨的声音

我需要越少 我就感觉越好

也许是另一种生活已经让我疲惫不堪

我不再觉得一些事情有吸引力

例如在对话中打败别人

或者是爬上某个喝醉了的可怜女人的身躯

使他们的生活陷入了悲痛之中

我无法接受生活的本来面目

无法欣然接受生活中的苦难

但是生活中的有些部分 纤细而神奇的部分

是供人询问的

我重生了

我不知道具体是什么时候 日期 时间那些的

但变化就这么发生了

我心中的某个部分变得无拘无束和圆滑

我不再需要去向谁证明我是个男人

不需要证明任何东西

我开始看清一些东西

咖啡店柜台后面整齐排列的杯子

或者是一只在人行道上散步的狗

或者那只在我梳妆台上面的老鼠

它就这么停在了那里

它的身体 耳朵和鼻子也随之停住了

一动不动 但又有着一种生命力

它的眼睛看着我 真是一双美丽的眼睛啊

然后它就跑开了

我开始感觉良好

我开始在最糟糕的情况下也感觉良好

即使总有糟糕的事情发生

就比如说坐在桌子后面的老板

他不得不开除我

我已经缺席了好多天

他穿着西装 打着领带 戴着眼镜

说“我必须开除你了”

我告诉他“没关系”

他必须做他该做的事

他有妻子 房子 孩子

日常开销 甚至可能有情妇

我为他感到悲伤

他被困住了

我走到炽热的阳光底下

这一整天都是属于我的 虽然只是暂时的

全世界人都被这个世界扼住了喉咙

每个人都觉得愤怒 不公 被欺骗

每个人都觉得沮丧 幻想破灭

我欢迎短暂而又破碎的幸福

我欣然接受了这些事物 彷佛他们是最受欢迎的数字

像是高跟鞋 乳房 唱歌 画作

不要误会我了

愚蠢的乐观主义是真的存在的

让人忽略一切最基本的问题

而只是为了自身的利益

这是一个自我保护的盾 也是一种病态的现象

那把刀子又逼近了我的喉咙

我差点又打开了那个开关

但是当好的时光来临时

我没有像在小巷里跟敌人打斗一样把它赶走

我让它们拥抱我 让我沉浸于中

我欢迎着他们的归来

我曾经看着镜子里的自己

觉得自己很是丑陋

但是我现在喜欢我所看到的

近乎帅气

是的 稍微有些口子和不平的坑

一些疤痕 硬块和皱纹

但总的来说 还不算太差

近乎帅气

至少比某些电影明星的样貌要好些

彷佛是婴儿的臀瓣

最后我发现

真正地为别人思考是无意间的

比如说最近 像是今天早上

当我离开的时候 我看见我妻子躺在床上

虽然只看到她头的形状

她的被子拉的很高 所以只能看到她的头的形状

谨记几百年以来的生命和死亡

还有正在死去的 还有金字塔

莫扎特死了 但是他的音乐仍然流传至今

杂菜在生长 地球在转动

赌金揭示牌在等着我

我看到我妻子的头的形状

她很平静

我为她的人生感到疼痛

就那么静静地躺在被子下

我亲吻了她的额头

走下楼梯离开了家

坐进我非凡的车 系上了安全带

开始倒车

感受着延伸到指尖的温暖

脚踩着油门

我再次进入了这个世界

驱车下山经过那些房子

它们要么人满为患 要么空荡荡的

然后我看到了那个邮差 按了下喇叭

他朝我挥了挥手

" Either peace or happiness, let it enfold you.

When I was a young man I felt that these things were dumb, unsophisticated.

I had bad blood, a twisted mind, a precarious upbringing.

I was hard as granite. I leered at the sun. I trusted no man and especially no woman. I was living a hell in small rooms. I broke things, smashed things, walked through glass cursed. I challenged everything was continually being evicted, jailed, in and out of fights, in and out of my mind.

Women were something to screw and rail at

I had no male friends. I changed jobs and cities. I hated hoildays, babies, history, newspapers, museums, grandmothers, marriage, movie, Spiders, garbagemen, English accents, Spain, France, Italy, walnuts and color orange.

Algebra angered me. Opera sickened me.Charlie Chaplin was a fake. And flowers were for pansies.

Peace and happiness were to me signs of inferiority, tenants of the weak and addled mind. But as I went on with my alley fights, my suicidal years, my passage through any number of women, it gradually began to occur to me that I wasn't different from the others, I was the same.

They were all fulsome with hatred, glossed over with petty grievances.

The men I fought in alleys had hearts of stone.

Everybody was nudging, inching, cheating for some insignificant advantage.

The lie was the weapon, and the plot was empty. Darkness was the dictator.

Cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark.

The less I needed, the better I felt.

Maybe the other life had worn me down. I no longer found glamour in topping somebody in conversation or in mounting the body of some poor, drunken female whose life had slipped away into sorrow.

I could never gobble down all its poisons. But there were parts, tenuous magic parts, open for the asking.

I reformulated. I don't know when-- date, time, all that-- but the change occured.

Something in the relaxed, smoothed out. I no longer had to prove that I was a man. I didn't have to prove anything.

I began to see things. Coffee cups lined up behind a counter in a cafe. Or a dog walking along a sidewalk. Or the way the mouse on my dresser top stopped there, really stopped there, with its body, its ears, its nose.

It was fixed, a bit of life caught within itself, and its eyes looked at me, and they were beautiful. Then it was gone.

I began to feel good. I began to feel good in the most situations, and there were plenty of those. Like say, the boss behind his desk.

He is going to have to fire me. I've missed too many days.He's dressed in a suit, necktie, glasses. He says, ' I am going to have to let you go.' 'It's all right, ' I tell him.

He must do what he must do. He has a wife, a house, children, expenses, most probably a girlfriend. I'm sorry for him. He's caught.

I walk out into the blazing sunshine. The whole day is mine, temporarily anyhow.

The whole world is at the throat of the world. Everybody feels angry, short-changed, cheated. Everybody is despondent, disillusioned.

I welcomed shots of peace, tattered shards of happiness. I remember that stuff like the hottest number, like high heels, breasts, singing, the works.

Don't get me wrong, there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism that overlooks all basic problems just for the sake of itself.

This is a shield and a sickness. The knife got near my throat again. I almost turned on the gas again.

But when the good moments arrived again, I didn't fight them off like an alley adversary.

I let them take me. I luxuriated in them. I bade them welcome home. I even looked into the mirror once having thought myself to be ugly.

I now liked what I saw. Almost handsome . Yes, a bit ripped and ragged. Scars, lumps, odd turns. But all in all, not too bad.

Almost hadsome.

Better at least than some of those movie star faces like the cheeks of a baby's butt.

And finally I discovered real feelings for others, unheralded.

Like lately, like this morning, as I was leaving for the tracks, I saw my wife in bed, just the shape of her head there, covers pulled high, just the shape of her head there.

Not forgetting centuries of living and the dead and the dying, the pyramids, Mozart dead, but his music still there in the room, weeds growing, the Earth turning, the tote board waiting for me.

I saw the shape or my wife's head, she so still. I ached for her life, just being there under the covers.

I kissed her on forehead, got down the stairway, got outside, got into my marvelous car, fixed the seat belt, backed out the drive.

Feeling warm to the fingertips, dowm to my foot on the gas pedal, I entered the world once more, drove down the hill past the house full and empty of people.

I saw the mailman, honked. He waved back at me."

（片中和片尾念到的Charles Bukowski诗作，觉得非常美。找出来分享。）

Either peace or happiness, let it enfold you

when I was a young man I felt these things were dumb, unsophisticated. I had bad blood, a twisted mind, a precarious upbringing.

I was hard as granite, I leered at the sun. I trusted no man and especially no woman.

I was living a hell in small rooms, I broke things, smashed things, walked through glass, cursed. I challenged everything, was continually being evicted, jailed, in and out of fights, in and out of my mind. women were something to screw and rail at, I had no male friends,

I changed jobs and cities, I hated holidays, babies, history, newspapers, museums, grandmothers, marriage, movies, spiders, garbagemen, english accents,spain, france,italy,walnuts and the color orange. algebra angered me, opera sickened me, charlie chaplin was a fake and flowers were for pansies.

peace and happiness to me were signs of inferiority, tenants of the weak and addled mind.

but as I went on with my alley fights, my suicidal years, my passage through any number of women-it gradually began to occur to me that I wasn't different

from the others, I was the same,

they were all fulsome with hatred, glossed over with petty grievances, the men I fought in alleys had hearts of stone. everybody was nudging, inching, cheating for some insignificant advantage, the lie was the weapon and the plot was empty, darkness was the dictator.

cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. the less I needed the better I felt.

maybe the other life had worn me down. I no longer found glamour in topping somebody in conversation. or in mounting the body of some poor drunken female whose life had slipped away into sorrow.

I could never accept life as it was, i could never gobble down all its poisons but there were parts, tenuous magic parts open for the asking.

I re formulated I don't know when, date, time, all that but the change occurred. something in me relaxed, smoothed out. i no longer had to prove that I was a man,

I didn't have to prove anything.

I began to see things: coffee cups lined up behind a counter in a cafe. or a dog walking along a sidewalk. or the way the mouse on my dresser top stopped there with its body, its ears, its nose, it was fixed, a bit of life caught within itself and its eyes looked at me and they were beautiful. then- it was gone.

I began to feel good, I began to feel good in the worst situations and there were plenty of those. like say, the boss behind his desk, he is going to have to fire me.

I've missed too many days. he is dressed in a suit, necktie, glasses, he says, 'I am going to have to let you go'

'it's all right' I tell him.

He must do what he must do, he has a wife, a house, children, expenses, most probably a girlfriend.

I am sorry for him he is caught.

I walk onto the blazing sunshine. the whole day is mine temporarily, anyhow.

(the whole world is at the throat of the world, everybody feels angry, short-changed, cheated, everybody is despondent, disillusioned)

I welcomed shots of peace, tattered shards of happiness.

I embraced that stuff like the hottest number, like high heels, breasts, singing,the works.

(don't get me wrong, there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism that overlooks all basic problems just for the sake of itself- this is a shield and a sickness.)

The knife got near my throat again, I almost turned on the gas again but when the good moments arrived again I didn't fight them off like an alley adversary. I let them take me, I luxuriated in them, I made them welcome home. I even looked into the mirror once having thought myself to be ugly, I now liked what I saw, almost handsome, yes, a bit ripped and ragged, scares, lumps, odd turns, but all in all, not too bad, almost handsome, better at least than some of those movie star faces like the cheeks of a baby's butt.

and finally I discovered real feelings of others, unheralded, like lately, like this morning, as I was leaving, for the track, i saw my wife in bed, just the shape of her head there (not forgetting centuries of the living and the dead and the dying, the pyramids, Mozart dead but his music still there in the room, weeds growing, the earth turning, the tote board waiting for me) I saw the shape of my wife's head, she so still, I ached for her life, just being there under the covers.

I kissed her in the forehead, got down the stairway, got outside, got into my marvelous car, fixed the seatbelt, backed out the drive. feeling warm to the fingertips, down to my foot on the gas pedal, I entered the world once more, drove down the hill past the houses full and empty of people, I saw the mailman, honked, he waved back at me.

电影音乐很棒。

1. Nic情况有所好转以后回家，爸爸在他睡觉的时候唱着Beautiful Boy的摇篮曲。一开始声音开得小，我还以为那是个无声镜头，直到父亲回忆Nic小时候在机场跟他告别时BGM变大我才听到。让我很惊喜的细节是歌曲不光是约翰列侬的原唱，还有演员的声音，仿佛那首摇篮曲从Nic小时候唱到了现在。而我也终于听到了那句早在预料之中的“I love you more than evergthing”。

2. Nic在公路上开车的经典镜头，背景音乐是我称之为公路音乐最佳的Heart of Gold。

3. 如果说前半段的Nic是在混沌中堕落，他在clear一年多之后的复吸就是清醒着堕落。当他和女生一起堕落着的时候，音乐却是如此浪漫与缓和，仿佛这种沉沦是世上最美的事情。最后Nic想要结束生命那一段，凄美缓慢的女高同样安详而宁静。

4. Nic和女生开车逃出家，继母流着泪开车跟在后面，像是追赶，却没过多久又停了下来。但原来她不是在追，而是在驱赶。之前父亲说要去找儿子的时候，她愤怒地希望丈夫be responsible，当时没看懂，原来她希望丈夫放弃这个可能给自己孩子带来负面影响的哥哥，而她的驱逐也是想要让Nic远离年幼的孩子。不得不说挺绝的。

其实感觉整部电影都是那种节奏缓慢而充满回忆的，真好像吸了一大口drug而变得飘飘然。看其他影评才知道电影参考了父亲和儿子分别写的两本回忆录，这也解释了为什么前半段是父亲的视角为主、而后半段是Nic为主。

要不是看到片尾对现实中的主角后来人生的叙述，单是电影结尾给我的感觉没那么充满希望。因为反反复复多少次，总是以为他彻底clear了、与父亲做了坚定的保证了、被当作戒毒成功的典范了，最后又是新一轮的绝望，好像永无止境，像颗定时炸弹。但是总归会结束的吧。

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

I love you more than everything.

应该没有人会看，但求生欲强，我先声明下，以下仅代表个人当时的所以所想，用了一些英文只是最近英文电影看多了，有点点英文的思维，用错了勿怪，我只是四级以下的水平。

另外，甜茶真的很帅，而且演技一绝，我看过好几部他的电影了，每个角色都是独立的，完全不会串戏，这点太牛批了

我还是最爱elio啊

——————

一边看豆瓣里的解释一边看的，怎么说捏，nic真的令人很心痛吧，像我这种平常人看到一个吸毒的只会认为他没救了，觉得他是咎由自取。

其实想了下，像我这种之前觉得酒精很好，喝了酒会high，会很兴奋，喜欢喝酒。然后终于有一次年会上喝了很多红酒，在酒店半夜趴在床上头痛欲穿之后，再也不想喝酒了。我会想，为了high一时，而后面自己这么痛苦，我宁愿不high了。确实哈，我平常生活富足，童年没什么大事件，家庭稳定且美满，现在bf对我非常好，公司和同事也不算没良心，有朋友可以交流，有家可归等等，纵使肯定会有生活的不愉快，但也可以go through。实在是不需要酒精去一时地麻痹自己，get high for a while。

所以看了这个第一次感受到：或许啊，有些人真的因为经历过某些事，心里有着巨大的空虚。这些事情真的不是因为他们做错了什么才，而且他根本没得选择的去server it。他真的不是咎由自取，他真的不是不想乐观向上。反过来他们是太想乐观、太想积极了，才会导致生病，得了抑郁症之类的心理疾病吧。生病了之后，自己没办法调节，就更加更加地低落，形成了一个负反馈、死循环了。

其实我曾经有一个好朋友，她也得了类似的病。她高考前在学校遭受校园暴力，高考后父母离异（就是有种你终于上大学的感觉，现在回想起来，想必离异前已经家庭破碎、经常争吵了），在大学时也过的不咋滴。像我这种他们身边的人，在看这电影之前其实是很难理解他们为什么会这样，为什么她就得病了，我会觉得我平常也会有难过啊，我自己也不是总是很开心啊。

在知道她得病之后，我真的很想对她好，同时不知道该怎么对她好。不想感动自己，我是真的想do something nice to her。我查了很多，知乎啊、豆瓣啊等等。看了很多电影，比如余文乐的那个、legal high男主角的那个等等，还是没有得到答案。仍然是无法理解，不知怎么样做才算是对她好。

其实我自己某些时候也会有某些时间段不开心到快要抑郁的状态，但最后由于我的家庭啊、还有things getting better等因素，拯救了我。我就以那时候，我自己快要抑郁的感觉去理解她。（但应该还是远远不够吧）

采用对待她的方法是当她像是平常人一样，她愿意说的时候，我尽量耐心聆听的那种。

最后，也就是现在，我还是失败了。她对我很失望，我们也绝交了，不再是朋友了。

但是，你知道吗，秋千，今天我好像又进一步了解你多了一点。祝福你，希望你身体健康，平安喜乐吧。我之前跟你说过，但你不相信的，你在我心里的位置永远是best friend，其他人都不及你。

唉，其实我也觉得绝交了也不是不好吧，我也只是一个普通人，我有我自己生活和烦恼，我没有办法把生活的重心放在你那，我可能真的不能帮到你什么吧。

回归电影，我真的不想生孩子，更别说是多个孩子了，我连家里两只猫的关系都没办法平衡、平等地处理，更别说人了。