Chapter 1391: Going into devil
Johnny was depressed, wronged, and angry.
Like a glass of vermouth. It was bitter and strong and could not swallow it, and it almost burned my throat, and all my internal organs began to burn.
On Monday, they approached.
Tuesday, they contacted.
On Wednesday, they couldn't help themselves.
On Thursday, she turned around and left to close her heart, convicted him, but refused to give any response.
He put on his prison uniform and zebra patterns surround his shoulders.
He put on iron shackles, which surrounded his feet.
He tried to struggle but to no avail; he tried to escape but had nowhere to escape, and he was locked in her prison without even a chance to appeal.
Frustrated!
The frustration that cannot be accurately described in words is almost bursting in my chest.
The whole brain is a cloud of mucus, chaotic and hot, the world is burning, he doesn't care about the audience, his emotions evolve into notes and singing, and he vents it unscrupulously, and he must make his own voice.
Then, in a daze, he found the figure in the crowd, the figure that made him fascinated but helpless, staring at her intently, the lyrics were like questions and complaints. He vented towards Joan Carter in a storm, igniting the storm.
Joan Carter was slightly panicked.
Johnny Damn Cash, it's this hell of Johnny Cash again.
In the eyes of everyone, Johnny's actions will inevitably cause rumors to spread again. Johnny may not care or ignore them completely, but the final price must be borne by her; and Vivian, Vivian is also What should I do?
It's all her fault.
Join Carter hated herself, she shouldn't be impulsive, all of this is wrong.
The frustration and frustration made Joan Carter lower his eyes and hurriedly hide himself. Embarrassment and embarrassment appeared on her face. She hated herself for letting herself fall into the mud again.
Johnny was disappointed-
Join Carter avoided his sight.
He couldn't even see her eyes clearly, and his cry of questioning and accusing him crashed into the wall, weak and bitter, just like before.
He doesn't understand Joan Carter, he never understands it.
So, angry? Depressed? Are you frustrated?
Maybe, all of them.
But he had no way to tell. His dizzy brain was stuffed with cotton wool. The whole world was spinning at high speed, and his internal organs were burning wildly. However, his blood vessels were cold and bone-black. He felt that he might explode at any time and turn into a pool of mud. .
Then, his mind broke free from the reins, his body got rid of control, and the next step was-
started to spin.
"Lalala, Lalala."
Just like Sister Maria in "The Sound of Music", she rotated and jumped on the hillside full of flowers and green, and her tap dance steps rushing freely on the stage ground.
Everyone was shocked and stared at the tall and elegant figure stepping on clumsy footsteps. For a moment, they couldn't tell whether it was a tap dance or a drunken fist. The unorganized footsteps flew along the inertia of centrifugal force. Go out and it's about to disappear from the stage.
The whole audience was silent.
The audience looked at the ridiculous and chaotic scene in front of them, and even forgot to slap high and cheer, and were stunned, so they temporarily lost their ability to react.
Perhaps, Anson is the only one. Rotate, jump, close your eyes.
After turning around, Anson hugged the guitar again and stepped on the tango footsteps, and his ups and downs and downs, swaying rhythms, crossing from one side of the stage to the other side. I don’t care about other sights at all, but just immersed in my own world.
The groggy head heated up, and thousands of troops ran wildly in different directions, and a roar in my mind, and a brutal force overturned all my reason.
He refuses to be rules, he refuses to be obedient, he refuses to be bound, he just wants to live freely and unrestrainedly, or he just wants to be happy.
But when did happiness become so difficult?
Is he not qualified to enjoy happiness?
People convicted him simply and roughly, tied him up with labels and shackles, and were unreasonably unwilling to give him a chance to speak. They even sent him to hell before he made a defense. , they just need a scapegoat, an object of cathartic anger. When they cannot find their father's whereabouts, they blindly stabbed the sharp blade at the innocent and helpless him.
Invisible shackles tied up his hands and feet, and the hatred was overwhelmed with overwhelming catharsis, unable to escape or breathe.
But...
In fact, he is also a victim.
Because of his father's crimes, he, a child, is not worthy of enjoying happiness? Because he betrayed his faith, was not loyal to marriage, and truly fell in love with a woman, but was not worthy of happiness?
Because my father hurt so many people, will his happiness become a sin? Because of his reasons, his younger brother died, so he must carry the shackles for the rest of his life?
Thoughts, intertwined.
No mistakes, one poem, one post, one content, one in 6, one book, one bar, one read!
Sometimes Anson and sometimes Johnny, sometimes past and present, chaotic fragments of memory are intertwined and entangled, and the boundary between reality and illusion has long disappeared. Anson is Johnny, and Johnny is also Anson, and his emotions are ignited like this. A surging force erupted from the depths of the soul.
Blow out!
Guilty. anger. Frustrated. upset. Depressed. struggle. torment. pain.
All kinds, all kinds of things burned wildly.
After his father's thunder, he had been restraining himself and controlling himself, and he didn't even dare to smile, worried that his smile might sprinkle salt on the wounds of those victims; he was unable to repay his father's debts , and it cannot make up for the harm of his father. The only thing he can do is punish himself.
He dared not fall asleep peacefully, did not dare to smile, did not dare to enjoy happiness, did not dare to be happy easily. Only by letting himself live in pain all the time, this seems to be the only way to relieve the pain of those victims. .
sorry. Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry.
When those people came to the door, those victims, creditors, and friends of their former fathers, he could not say anything and could not do anything, and he didn't even dare to cry, worried that his tears would be in the other party His eyes evolved into a grievance-
Yes, he didn't even have the qualification to be grievance.
He held his breath, apologized over and over again, trapped in layers of invisible shackles, and fell into endless cycles.
But.
……Why?
Why did he not even dare to breathe? Why doesn't he even dare to smile? Why does his life stop turning forever?
No, he refused.
The more painful it is, the more you need to sing, the more you suffer, the more you need to dance freely, and the darker it is, the more you need to grasp every minute and every second to enjoy life.
Disaster and struggle, burning and bursting, buzzing in his brain. He broke free from his restraints, let go of his hands and feet in the endless fire of hell, stepped on the devil's dance steps, and ran wildly and spinned wildly. .
The drum beat is not enough—
The strength is not enough, the rhythm is not enough.
Obviously, the drummer seemed to be so stunned by the scene in front of him that the drum beat was bound, and the weakening of the drum beat was particularly conspicuous in the swaying music.
Johnny stumbled and stepped up, roaring loudly, "Give it some strength, man!"
(The end of this chapter)