Empty Cocoon and Light Years

[Two heroines｜Mental illness｜Pain aesthetics｜Reality orientation｜HE] The year I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, there were seven white pills in my pill box. Doctors say this is a lifelong disease and you have to learn to live with it. The day I met Su Wan, her eyes told me I deserve to be loved too The university separates us at opposite ends of Beijing. She was pursuing her artistic dream at CAFA, while I was fighting against the tide of emotions at a regular university. The bathroom floor tiles were cold and the blades were sharp. When Wen Yan kicked the door open, a small pool of blood had already flowed out. "The sound of the stream here is so loud," she said, "so loud that you can't hear the voice in your heart that says, 'Go to hell.'" On the last days of our one-year appointment in Yunxi, I made a choice. It's not who loves me more, but in which kind of love I can breathe Su Wan's love requires me to stand in the light, while Wen Yan's love allows me to stay in the dark. At the teahouse where the one-year appointment had expired, Su Wan's eyes turned red: "We have all grown up." I nodded: "So I want to choose someone who allows me to grow up with peace of mind." When she got up, Wen Yan was waiting outside the door. Her eyes were the same as before. What was written in her eyes was I heard you. Today, I still have seven kinds of medicine in my medicine box, but the scars on my wrists have faded. Wen Yan is the first person I see when I wake up every morning. Occasionally during sleepless nights, Wen Yan would hold my wrist and caress the bumps with his fingertips. "I lost the sun, but I had a whole night sky that could accommodate all my cloudy days."