I, a dancer
Yan said I dance like an angel, a black angel.
Black, I don't know why it attracts me so much. I just like it. I like it violently. I selfishly want to make my home black, but I give up because my mother likes white.
I am silent, but Yan is cheerful. Being cheerful makes me feel incongruous, but we are indeed the best pair of friends in the world. I like to sit quietly and watch him play and laugh with others, and occasionally say a few words to show that I am not air.
Yan always told me that if you are too silent, you will miss a lot of opportunities. You need to be sunny before society will accept you. But I feel that I will not survive the day when society accepts me, so I stubbornly stick to a silence with no future. He can only shake his head and smile, and stop talking.
I really want to tell him everything about me, but I know that he will only smile. All my thoughts are stories to him, because he is a word maker, and his stories are earth-shattering. He can never understand the pain in my tranquility.
Only the black night knows my thoughts. It will never betray me, nor will it look at me lightly and make me feel that my story is the pain unearthed from happiness.
I have been thinking, have I been abandoned by society now? No one did anything because I was different, it seemed like I was just air.
Conception: