On the day I was laid off, I was trembling with relief and time bombs. My parents said: "I was fired by my boss again? Why do others do so well? The boss doesn't like you at all. You are a waste." After submitting countless resumes that failed to come to fruition, giving up on myself and starting over again, I thought they might be right.
So, from the top of the city, I boldly wrote the last prescription for myself—jumping. The pain of the body hitting the ground is not as good as the heartache of silence, and perhaps death is like an eternal sleep that is crushed into the soil. However, I didn't wait to be shattered into pieces, but I waited to be covered with feathers. I became a sparrow and flew into the world that once crushed me. Now, I see: the bad-tempered colleague vomiting in the parking lot late at night; the "other people's child", continuing to be a selfless puppet at the dinner table; my parents who can never communicate with each other, clumsily maintaining the lie that I "live well in the big city" among the neighbors.
It turns out that behind every window is an unknown island. I couldn't speak, so I could only bring a camellia in my mouth and place it on the window sill of the weeping person; I couldn't cure the terminal illness, so I could only brush my wings over the tired person's forehead and take away the pain for a moment. They called me "Lucky Bird" and said my arrival brought relief. But they don't know that every insignificant "sky prescription" I write is to heal the self that once stood on the edge of the cliff. My partner may be gone, but I hope you can continue to experience this world on my behalf.
Intent: True healing and freedom come from the transformation of perspective - from "object under examination" to "active observer and connector", and through profound understanding, gentle reconciliation with the world can be achieved.