Letters inspired by films. 因電影啟發的信件。

Jan. 27, 2011 The Passenger

Dear Lies,

            Ever since the beginning of my wrong-doings, you had been using every way possible to try and protect me. Sometimes I wonder if you really did this out of love, like you always told me before you covered me up with a thick, black veil of stories. Sometimes I wonder whether it was because you were ashamed of me, whether I was so ugly that you would have to hide my face behind a mask every time I was in danger of being seen.

            You were always there when there was no turning back from what I had done. You always knew what to do, how to clean up the mess I had gotten myself into. When I had stolen something, you would come immediately to wipe away my fingerprints; when I had murdered someone, you would be there to hide the body. I had fallen deeply in love with you, knowing that as long as you were with me, there was nothing to be afraid of. And so my misdeeds grew rapidly in amount, and oftentimes things went beyond your control, and I would eventually be found out, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care a tad if I was punished or not; all I cared about was you being there, helping me hide, protecting me, loving me.

            However, this time I didn’t do anything. I found Robertson’s body, but I didn’t kill him. I tried to tell you this, but you wouldn’t listen. You wouldn’t trust me. You hid me by exchanging the identities of the dead and the living; this was probably the most bizarre idea you had ever come up with. Perhaps you were tired of me, tired of all the times you had to mask what I had done. I was completely innocent, I really was, but perhaps you had moved beyond merely covering up my wrongs. Perhaps all this time you had been trying to hide me. Me, the core of your shame.

            Ironically, this time you hid me well. David Locke lived a Robertson, and died a Robertson. You died. And I cannot express the regret I feel in my heart. I want to blame it all on myself, but a part of me knows that this one mistake wasn’t mine. You wouldn’t believe that I was innocent, and you had to hide me. And now you are gone.

            I loved you, Lies. But did you love me?

Yours truly,

Truth

 

 

2011127日 《過客》

 

親愛的謊言:

  自從我開始犯錯,你用了所有的方式來保護我。有時候我會想你是不是真的因為愛而這樣做,像是你每次在把我用厚重陰暗的故事將我藏起來前和我說的那樣。有時候我會想會不會是因為你對我感到丟臉,會不會是因為我太醜陋了而你需要在我每一次有被看見的危險時你都要把我的臉遮起來。

  每次沒有退路的時候,你都會在我身邊。你每次都知道該怎麼辦,知道怎麼清理我自己為自己做的窘境。我偷了東西,你馬上就會把我的指紋抹去;我殺了人,你馬上就將屍體埋葬。我深深地愛上了你,知道有你在,什麼都不用怕。於是我做的壞事越來越多,也常常事情已經嚴重到無法挽回了,最後我會被發現,但是我沒關係。我會不會被懲罰我完完全全無所謂;我只在乎你在我身旁幫我躲藏、保護我、愛我。

  然而,這次我什麼都沒有做。我發現了羅伯特森的屍體,但是我沒有殺他。我一直和你這樣說,但是你就是不聽。你不信任我。你將我隱藏起來,將死者和活人的身分對調;這可能是你想出來最瘋狂的點子吧。可能你已經為我的事感到煩厭了,煩厭每一次都需要幫我遮避錯誤。我完全無辜,真的,但是你可能不是只是在隱瞞我的過錯而已了。可能這幾回你其實是一直在將我隱藏。我是你一切恥辱的中心。

  諷刺地,這次你把我隱藏地非常好。大衛‧洛克活著是個個羅伯特森,死了也是羅伯特森。你死了。而我無法表達心裡的悔恨。我想要全部都責怪在自己身上,但是一部分的我知道這次的錯不是我的。你不相信我是無辜的,也需要將我躲藏。而現在你走了。

  我愛你,謊言。但是你愛我嗎?

真誠地,

事實

-羅寗 Michelle Ning Lo

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