The dying person

It was a normal noon, a Tuesday noon—I think today should be Tuesday. The weather was hot and humid, it should rain. Whether it rains or not, I don't care, I won't go out if it rains heavily. This world is not mine, I am never the protagonist of this world.

My brain felt heavy, maybe because I drank a bottle of beer last night. I don't actually like drinking, I just thought it would help me sleep better. But it didn't have the desired effect, alcohol numbed part of my consciousness, but opened up other windows, as if I could perceive the world's misfortunes more vividly. Or maybe it's my own misfortune. I kept my eyes open until dawn, scenes from the past, movies, or imagination alternated before my eyes. Neo said, "The blue pill and the red pill don't matter, they are both pills, I just want to have a good sleep." I also hope to have a dream, preferably a pleasant one that leaves me refreshed.

Finally, I probably fell asleep, maybe had a dream, but I don't remember. I'm hungry. Dizzy, because of the alcohol, or maybe because of low blood sugar, I need to have lunch.

Open the door, lock the door, wait for the elevator, get on the elevator, get off the elevator, open the door again, go out, leave the residential area, cross the pedestrian crossing...

I couldn't cross the pedestrian crossing to reach the fast food restaurant on the other side.

I heard a piercing brake sound, I turned my head to the left, a bus was decelerating towards me. But it was too late, my brain didn't have time to react, let alone being dizzy, but the instinct to survive made me want to step back and run.

But it was too late, as I said before.

The blue bus's slightly protruding front end had already touched the tip of my nose, and the next moment I would die.

Suddenly, I felt an unprecedented clarity.

Is this the near-death experience, as if time has stopped? Or is it an illusion caused by an excessive secretion of adrenaline due to fear? Am I afraid? But I vaguely feel a sense of relief, as if I finally received help and will easily finish this life.

I have seen in more than one place that when facing death, one's life will replay, with great clarity, insight, and relief.

But I haven't had such an experience, at least not yet. Is it because I'm just one step away from death? The bus is right in front of me, why hasn't time moved forward? I have already thought enough.

Even though I haven't died yet, I feel that this is not normal—unless every person who dies is imprisoned in the moment before death and unable to move.

I tried to control my body, but no part responded to my command; but this is better than having a nightmare of "sleep paralysis" under a heavy winter quilt, at least my eyes are open.

Has time stopped?

I suddenly realized that maybe superheroes really exist? They saw my impending death and paused time to save me. But where are you? Besides the bus that occupies almost my entire field of vision, I can't see anything else.

No, still nothing.

Could it be that while the superhero paused time, they also trapped themselves inside? That would be really unfortunate! If the world remains frozen like this, it is basically equivalent to destruction.

But why can I still think? If my consciousness really originates from the brain, then my ability to think means that my brain is still functioning, and molecules and ions are still in motion. Has time only moved forward within my skull? I don't know if others are left with only consciousness like me. They are probably panicking in their minds, I hope they don't go crazy.

Actually, sometimes going crazy is a good thing, it can save a lot of trouble, and it can make people live more easily without realizing it. No need to consider others, or even understand oneself, even if one dies tragically, they won't be aware of it.

But not everyone can go crazy easily, if it were easy to go crazy, humanity would probably cease to exist. So maybe one can pretend to be crazy. Pretending to be crazy is not easy, it is a shameless thing to do, no normal person can do it. Perhaps those who can pretend to be crazy already have some madness, or maybe it's not madness, just some other mental illness, such as disgust, resentment, despair, or complete self-denial.

Or maybe it's just an illusion. Like the hallucinations caused by certain plant extracts or synthetic chemicals, it's as if the body and mind have merged with the outside world, and madness and sanity are completely equivalent. When the behaviors in the hallucination are directly applied to external objects, they are seen as madness and need to be knocked down with a stick.

The situation hasn't changed, the world is still frozen. How long has it been? Ten minutes? Two hours? Or ten thousand years? If time has stopped, any unit of measurement is meaningless. But the brain is still functioning, it's really strange.

Is the brain really still functioning? I suddenly thought, maybe not anymore? If time has stopped, the eyes naturally can't receive more light and can't see anything. But I still feel like I can peek outside through these two windows, even though the scenery in front of me remains unchanged.

But since there is no change, everything is as expected, how can I be sure that what I see is real and not the same scene from my memory? Maybe everything has already stopped, and my consciousness is also the same. The self I experience may just be a certain pattern at the moment time stops. This pattern is unrelated to time and has already been completed at the moment time stops; the reason I can still feel the passage of time is simply because my self-consciousness pattern is accustomed to linear thinking. So, it's probably all an illusion, right? Maybe time has already moved forward, and the current self is just trapped here.

On second thought, if it's really unrelated to time, then it means having endless time, which also means that the self I am currently experiencing will forever be here, looking at the bus that is so close. Undoubtedly, this is a kind of immortality, and also a kind of torture to some extent.

I have also dreamed of immortality and imagined many scenes, like meeting immortals in a lost forest, being captured by aliens, incredible genetic mutations, transferring consciousness into a machine, or rejuvenation... These scenes are as bizarre as immortality, so they cannot be realized, at least I have lost the hope of achieving them. Now, I probably really have achieved immortality. Just imprisoned at a moment in time, this is a situation I never really thought about, and far from what I expected. I have indeed thought about the situation of time stopping, but usually I hope that I am not bound by the pause of time, so that the whole world is at my disposal—no matter how attractive or beautiful the girl who blocks the world is...

But immortality comes in more than one form. Some people say that as long as they are remembered by others, they are still alive, or as long as they leave a trace in this world, they still exist; if these memories or traces persist, it is equivalent to immortality.

This sounds like self-comfort. But in this world where everyone seems to eventually die, this kind of comfort is still quite effective and has become the motivation for many people to strive throughout their lives. But it can also bring disaster or harm to others.

"Let everyone remember me, whether it's good or bad."

People who consciously cannot do good things that are remembered by others may turn to the other extreme and use bad things to show their sense of existence. Most of them fail, just like most people who do good things. After all, people can't remember so many people. But there are also successful ones, even becoming objects of pursuit, and even the harm they once caused will be imitated. And modern people have learned to find excuses, even if they are arrested, it doesn't matter. They will say they are sick, have a mental illness, and become victims.

But even if they are really sick, it doesn't necessarily mean they can escape punishment. In some parts of the world, being sick does not receive special treatment, but instead becomes a target of abuse; even those without illness will be forced to admit that they are sick, and then be isolated, locked up, or executed.

This is truly an unfortunate world, and it really needs to stop and take a breath. Is everyone thinking? Thinking about a better world?

So, this is probably the act of a god, right? Which god exactly is hard to say, it shouldn't be Buddhism or those monotheistic religions, and Taoism is even less likely. Thinking about it carefully, it's impossible. I'm probably an agnostic, and the existing gods all seem too foolish.

Suddenly, I felt a slight itch on my back, as if someone was gently scratching it with a feather. For someone who can't move, having an itch that can't be scratched is probably one of the greatest misfortunes. But then I thought, am I really itching? If time has stopped, the body can't move, and the nervous system must have stopped working. The limbs I feel are phantom limbs, the back I can feel is just a phantom back, and the real body is already a phantom. So the itch is probably just an illusion.

Thinking like this, the itch that was only vaguely felt suddenly became more and more pronounced, as if it was defying rational thinking, and the area of itchiness also grew larger. It gradually became unbearable.

I must divert my attention!

But where should I divert it to?

I'm about to die, so let's think about death. But what's worth thinking about in death? After all, everyone will die.

Then let's think about nihilism. Yes, death is meaningless, life is also meaningless, itchiness is also meaningless, let alone an itch that can't be scratched. Why is it so itchy!

There must be a reason, nihilism is also useless; just like when sexual desire or hunger strikes, nihilism is equally powerless, it is an uncontrollable part that every living being must endure.


Who will save me!


Is there anyone who can hear me!


The itch is spreading, almost covering my whole body. The itch under my armpits, the itch on the soles of my feet, and the itch behind my ears are the most unbearable, almost making me feel like I'm falling apart—I would rather it be pain, or even severe pain.

I think I'm going to die, die from the itchiness; or maybe go crazy, or go crazy and then die.

I tried to hold my breath, but I found that I had already stopped breathing, after all, time had stopped, and even the subconscious control of actions had stopped. I no longer blink, no longer have a heartbeat, and no longer fart, and even if I am stabbed, I won't react.

Just like a corpse.

So, I think I probably died a long time ago.

When I realized this, I suddenly felt that the itching that covered my whole body completely disappeared. I tried to move, and I succeeded! I even floated in the air!

Time started moving again. I saw the person who had died being hit, crushed, and their intestines and excrement bursting out by the blue bus. Their body temperature returned to the average temperature.

It was a normal and slightly terrifying noon. Some people were screaming, some were taking pictures, and someone died. Everything was in order.

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