I was walking around 琅琊路 elementary school yesterday afternoon. It was cool, windy, and drizzled resembling more of a mid-autumn afternoon than a mid-summer one. The school stood on an “ island” – an intersection-like area surrounded by communities, gardens and lush trees. The island has no traffic( the whole area is a military-controlled zone), and its asphalt-paved path was delicately decorated with wet golden and orange falling leaves.

It was around 4, and few pedestrians were around. The elementary school has been closed for the summer holiday. Peering through its front gate and fences, I could see stacks of chairs being neatly put on top of well-cleaned desks which reminded me of my elementary school days. Right before the summer holiday started, we would all do massive cleanings of our chairs, desks and the whole classroom. More than 2 decades later, today’s first and second graders are still following the same schemes. Outside of the school, its outer walls are embedded with propaganda-styled slogans such as “ we should learn hard to become China’s new soldiers and pour our hearts to defend our country and people” and “ we belong to our country, and we need to burn like candles for our nation’s missions!” These slogans are constantly reminding me that our country’s educational system has rarely progressed positively since the notorious Cultural revolution- students are still playing slaves of their homework, textbooks, teachers and parents. Nothing has changed at its core.

Students have “ zero once” of freedom today just as they didn’t have 50 years ago. How pathetic this is!

While walking around the school humming a light-hearted song, I accidentally encountered an elderly woman. She had messy and grey curly hair, gaunt and wrinkled face, and moved wobbly and extremely slowly relying her walking stick. Her sagging breasts covered under a kitsch black and red dress patterned with cheap-styled large peonies and spring rose shook violently when she moved her every step. Next to her, a filthy and un-groomed dog walked lethargically, and it must be her pets. Her eyes read “ talking to me, and I am deadly-lonely.”  She gave me advice of my health condition, like a cadre giving me an strict order. “ I am talking to you!” “ you should massage your legs with rice vinegar and strong alcohol!” What a scene!

I do admire her unblemished directness though！How many people would stop you right in the mid of your walking, and give you an order?

Plus, I am reading a NEW YORK TIMES top 10 book titled Outline, and the protagonist Faye is quite a similar character who is often capable of initiate a fluid conversion when flying from London( her home town) to Athens with “ my neighbor”( a male passenger sitting next to her).

Still, after a few minutes, I couldn’t stand her rambling anymore, and intended to leave. I could feel her desperation to talk, express herself and connect with a real human being instead of a internally mute pet. I walked away with a rush exactly because of it. I saw that much emptiness, fear, craving for care and attentions from her soul as if she is a malicious witch or vampire, and spending any more time with her ,she would suck all energy and chi out of me, and I would be eventually be boneless, formless and cease to exist. So I run away.

I ran away while thinking even deeper about my irritation towards this harmless, and 70ish old lady. Which part of her triggered my aloofness? I have been a caring and warm-hearted listener most of my life. Why am I being afraid of her, her way of talking, dressing, moving? Why?

It took me a few more minutes to understand my fear: I don’t want to end up like her one day. I know! It sounds absolutely cruel, irresponsible and disgusting. But I couldn’t lie to myself.

However, being gay, what is my chance of not end up being like her all being even worse? This lady is not homeless, and somewhere inside of her home, she must have grown-up kids( she told me her son would take her to hospital and get IVs for Her Parkinson), and what would I have when reaching 70s? a wardrobe filled with expensive and old-fashioned clothes, shoes and designer-brand bags? How pathetic and melancholic would that be?

What to do? This is a hot-buttoned question to millions of ok, but not strikingly good-looking gay men who don’t have billionaire parents, and hold their tedious, yet ok-paid jobs, and stay single forever.

What to do?  

Personally, I think the only way to unrealized this nightmarish future is to collect enough money, and registering myself into a reputable and well-established, and facilitated nursing homeJ It is there that I would make friends with others who understand and empathize with my agony and desire. It’s there that I would find someone to talk and probably even share an ice-cream cone or movie together.

Oh, the prerequisite is to be healthy. Many gays are born to be less-healthy due to their isolation from the main-stream world, and depression of being forced to constantly to hide their identities, and they can’t even live to their 70s before ending their own lives under massive pressures from all sides of the world.

Be brave and strong then.