——一位身处当下的人留下的说明

文 / HuSir

　　如果你正在读这些文字，便如同见到了一个人，那就是我。很巧，是不是？你我或许是在不同场合熟识的友人，抑或是亲密无间的家人，也可能只是从未谋面的陌生人。但在这一刻，我们因这些文字短暂相遇。

　　这些文字的背后，是身处阴霾国的此刻的我——一个活过五十七载，才慢慢学着与神同行的人。你看到的，并不是一个完整的时代叙述，更不是一份答案清单，而只是一个普通人在特定处境中的记录。

　　在阴霾国，许多普通人的人生轨迹，是我所熟悉的一条路径：上学、入团、参加工作、入党，按体制要求行事，在既定结构中完成被期待的一生。我也曾在这样的路径中行走，并在其中逐渐意识到，一些问题并不能靠顺从或努力本身得到解答。

　　我写下这些，并不是因为我比别人更清醒，也不是因为我已经走出了困境。恰恰相反，我写作，是因为我身处其中，看见了一些东西，却无法完全解决它们。写，是我能为自己保留诚实的方式。

　　你或许会觉得，这些文字显得犹豫、沉重，甚至不够“积极”。但请理解，在我所处的环境里，很多问题并不存在简单、干净的选择。恐惧并不总是来自邪恶，它常常来自现实的复杂；沉默也并非全然出于懦弱，有时是人在夹缝中求生的方式。

　　如果你发现我反复提到“责任”“顺服圣灵”“自由生活”“勇敢追求”这些词，那并不是为了制造新的概念，而是因为在一次次现实碰撞中，我逐渐意识到：真正困住人的，往往不是外在条件，而是人在长期环境中被塑造出的内在习惯——依赖、等待、回避、幻想捷径。

　　我并不确定自己看得是否足够全面。也许在你所处的时代，这些判断会显得过时、偏颇，甚至幼稚。但至少在我写下它们的那一刻，它们是真实的，是我在不说谎的前提下，所能抵达的理解边界。

　　如果你生活在一个更自由的世界，我为你感到欣慰；如果你仍身处极权压迫之中，我并不能替你指出道路。我唯一希望的是：你不要轻易嘲笑前人的犹豫，也不要轻易高估或美化自己的处境。自由从来不是突然降临的，它总是伴随着承担、试错与代价。

　　我文章中没有留下宏大的理想，只从不同的角度留下了一处处提醒和思考：当你感到愤怒、失望、无力时，不妨先问一问自己——此刻困住我的，究竟是环境本身，还是我尚未准备好承担责任的后果？

　　如果这些文字能在某个时刻，帮你更准确地理解自己所处的世界，而不是急着站队、判断或逃离，那么它们就已经完成了自己的使命。

　　至于我个人的成败、对错、局限，你不必替我辩护，也不必替我惋惜。我只是一个努力在复杂时代中，不愿完全失去自我的人。

　　愿你比我更自由。
　　也愿你比我更有勇气，为自己所作出的选择承担责任。

To Those Who May Read These Words in the Future

A Note Left by Someone Living in This Time
By HuSir

If you are reading these words, it is as if you have encountered a person—me.
A coincidence, isn’t it? You and I may be friends who once knew each other in different settings, or family members bound by closeness, or complete strangers who have never crossed paths. Yet in this moment, we meet briefly through these words.

Behind these words is who I am at this moment, living in the Land of Shadow—a person who has lived for fifty-seven years and is only now slowly learning what it means to walk with God. What you see here is not a complete account of an era, nor a list of answers, but merely a record of an ordinary person situated in a particular set of circumstances.

In the Land of Shadow, the life trajectory of many ordinary people follows a path I know well: going to school, joining youth organizations, entering the workforce, joining the Party, acting in accordance with institutional requirements, and completing a life shaped by expectations within an established structure. I, too, once walked along this path, and gradually came to realize that some questions cannot be answered simply through obedience or diligence alone.

I did not write these words because I am more clear-sighted than others, nor because I have already emerged from difficulty. On the contrary, I write because I am still within it—able to see certain things, yet unable to fully resolve them. Writing is the way I preserve honesty for myself.

You may find these words hesitant, heavy, or insufficiently “positive.” Please understand that in the environment I inhabit, many issues do not present clean or simple choices. Fear does not always arise from evil; more often, it comes from the complexity of reality. Silence is not always cowardice; at times, it is how people survive within narrow constraints.

If you notice that I repeatedly refer to words such as “responsibility,” “obedience to the Holy Spirit,” “a free way of living,” and “the courage to pursue,” this is not an attempt to invent new concepts. Rather, it is because through repeated collisions with reality, I have gradually come to understand that what truly confines people is often not external conditions, but the internal habits shaped by long-term environments—dependence, waiting, avoidance, and the fantasy of shortcuts.

I cannot be certain that my perspective is sufficiently complete. In your time, these judgments may seem outdated, biased, or even naïve. But at the moment I wrote them, they were real. They represent the furthest boundary of understanding I could reach without lying to myself.

If you live in a freer world, I am glad for you. If you are still under authoritarian oppression, I cannot point out a path for you. My only hope is that you do not easily ridicule the hesitation of those who came before you, nor easily overestimate or romanticize your own circumstances. Freedom never arrives suddenly; it is always accompanied by responsibility, trial and error, and cost.

I have left no grand ideals in my writing—only reminders and reflections from different angles. When you feel anger, disappointment, or powerlessness, perhaps pause and ask yourself: what is truly confining me at this moment—my environment itself, or my unwillingness to bear the consequences of responsibility?

If these words, at some point, help you understand your own world more accurately—rather than rushing to take sides, judge, or escape—then they will have fulfilled their purpose.

As for my own successes or failures, right or wrong, strengths or limitations, you need not defend me, nor mourn for me. I am simply someone who, in a complex age, tried not to lose himself completely.

May you be freer than I was.
And may you have greater courage than I did, to take responsibility for the choices you make.