I Am Scattered Everywhere

When leaving a place, I always fear leaving something behind. When checking out of a hotel, I turn the quilt and pillows upside down; when getting out of a taxi, I run my hand over the seat where I sat.

If I lose something, I regret it terribly. In elementary school, I lost a pen on the sloping roof of the old paradise, and I was sad simply because that pen had carried a small memory of grievance. I don't know where I got that pen; it was an ordinary black-and-white ballpoint pen. One day it disappeared, and then I found it in a classmate's pencil case. We each insisted it was ours, and finally the homeroom teacher asked us to describe the pen separately. I won by giving a more detailed description and got the pen back.

Perhaps initially fighting for the pen was a defense of property rights, a sense of "it should belong to me," but later it became a record of memories. Like tying knots to remember events, others may not know or care what story an object carries, but the one who records it knows. Should I have studied history? There aren't many things I care about, but one notable thing is collecting objects. Do people deny decisions they once made? Is it because they have stronger reasons?

Recently I keep feeling like I've lost something, maybe because I keep moving. The iPad pen was always said to be at Li Hui's house, but after searching for half a year, I still can't find it. The fridge magnet I promised to give Zhang Ran was taken apart by Li Hui, and the pufferfish Polaroid is nowhere to be found. Rushing to pack clothes for Chengdu, I found that those T-shirts from before are all missing. I have to admit that objects and memories both fade. In Shanghai, I discovered that the glasses Lucy gave me are irreparably broken. I clearly remember the unease when receiving the gift and the scene of Zhang Ran helping me get the glasses fitted. The photo frame covered with Polaroids will never be hung again, and the photos inside keep falling out. When will the necklace in the rubber band box be forgotten? What can I use to hold onto the past?

I moved from Dongguan to Hong Kong, Shenzhen, Beijing, Chengdu. How many things I remember or don't remember have been lost? The things left behind that can never be found again, and the blurry copies in my memory constantly deform, reminding me that I can never go back.