One Obituary Every Decade
In the version of Little Women directed by Greta Gerwig, one of the March sisters played by Florence Pugh said, “I only want to be the greatest, and if not that, nothing”. Or at least something along those lines. I used to think that way, but now I know I can’t be the greatest, especially after getting to know Da Vinci, Picasso, Van Gough, Monet, or just anyone everyone says is great, is pretty damn great.
I can’t be the greatest, but I still have a shot at trying to be someone great. Or at least the greatest version of myself, “the best version I can possibly be” as Greta Gerwig again, says in Lady Bird through Saoirse Ronan. I often wonder, what is the greatest version of myself? What could possibly be the greatest version of myself? Is that saying, who I am right now, is not good enough? I’m not sure to what degree I want to agree with that.
Wanting to be the greatest of everyone would be an ambitious dream for a kid, but wanting to be the greatest version of yourself as an adult is as rare to come by as a fairytale. So I guess, I am, in that way, an unicorn. Despite everything I’ve learned and unlearned, wish I did know, and wish I didn’t know, I am still hopeful. I still would like to see how far I can go, given that 32 has gotten me this far already. I never thought I’d make it past 30, things weren’t exactly looking bright for a long time. Ever since then I’ve decided to write an obituary for myself every decade, and celebrate surviving another decade.
Here’s my obituary for 20-30.
Sunny Xiaoxin Sun, who has her Chinese name given by her father, and her English name given by a Mexican girl in Tahoe during lunch break, has lived her life in anger and hate. She did not like anyone she came across, and she did not think it was ever possible for her to open up. She was wrong. Apparently in the land of the free, she found something for herself, her inner child. She took the little self with her, and ventured out into the wild. She was very brave, and made it far. She learned to love, forgive, grief, be vulnerable and she grew a lot from it. However, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t defeat her mental illness, and was therefore died of suicide at age of 30. However, according to her notes, she doesn’t regret her life and would like everyone to be happy for her instead of being sad.
Except that never happened. I did almost die, and part of me died, part of me was reborn. Now it’s 32 and onwards. But this exercise did put things in perspective for me, it made me want to reinvent myself every decade.
在格蕾塔·葛韦格（Greta Gerwig）导演的《小妇人》里，有一幕是由佛罗伦斯·皮尤演的March姐妹之一说的，“我只想成为最伟大的，如果做不到，那就什么都不做。”差不多是这句，可能原话不是完全一样。我以前也是这么想的。但现在我知道我不可能成为“最伟大的”。尤其是在了解了达芬奇、毕加索、梵高、莫奈，或者任何那些“被公认是伟大的”人之后——他们是真的牛。
我不能成为“最伟大的人”，但我可能还有机会成为一个不错的人，或者说，成为“最好的那个我自己”。就像格蕾塔·葛韦格在《伯德小姐》里，通过Saoirse Ronan那句台词说的：“the best version I can possibly be.”
我经常会想——“我自己的最强版本”到底是什么样？我现在不是吗？是不是在说“我现在还不够好”？我其实也不确定我有多同意这个说法。小时候想做“最强的人”是一种野心，但长大后还想成为“最好的自己”，好像就已经稀有得像童话故事里才会有的东西了。所以，大概从这个意义上说，我也算是个独角兽吧。
尽管我已经学了那么多、又忘了那么多，有些事我曾经希望我早点知道，有些事我希望我从来没知道过。但我还是——很奇怪地——对未来抱有希望。我还是想看看我究竟能走到多远，毕竟32岁都走到这了。我从没想过我会活到三十岁。很多年里，我都觉得没什么好期待的。从那以后，我决定：每十年给自己写一篇讣告，庆祝又活过了一个十年。
这是我为我20到30岁写的讣告：
孙筱欣，中文名由父亲所取，英文名则是在tahoe的一次午饭时由一位墨西哥女孩随口给出的，她的一生，在愤怒和憎恨中度过。她讨厌遇到的几乎所有人，她曾坚信她永远无法真正对别人敞开心扉。她错了。在“自由的土地”上，她意外地找到了点什么，她的“内在小孩”。她带着那个小小的自己，一起走进了荒野。她非常勇敢，而且，走得很远。她学会了去爱，去原谅，去哀悼，去脆弱——她在这些里成长了很多。尽管她努力了，她还是没能战胜她的精神疾病，最终于30岁那年自杀而死。不过根据她留下的笔记，她并不后悔这一生，她希望大家不要为她伤心，而是为她感到开心。
……但这一切并没有发生。我确实差点死掉。某种意义上我也“死”过一部分。但另一个我，重生了。现在是32岁，往前走的日子还很多。而这个“讣告练习”，让我重新整理了人生的时间线和结构。也让我更坚定地想，每十年，就重新发明一次自己。