# Confessions By [raindrop](https://paragraph.com/@raindrop-2) · 2022-09-15 --- ![](https://storage.googleapis.com/papyrus_images/384f871340c3daacd3724ab967124e48eece8f9daa2784c9f40c8dcd1b5e2683.png) Recently I have re-read the French Enlightenment writer Rousseau's "Confessions". There are twelve chapters in the two volumes, 634 pages in the Chinese translation, and more than 500,000 words. When I read it in one breath, we were both hazy. Following the river of words narrated by Rousseau, I once again drifted into the sea of ​​his rich and legendary soul, involuntarily fell into the whirlpool of thoughts and emotions, fell at the feet of God, and uttered a deep sigh—repentance! After more than 50 years of ups and downs, in the face of countless vicious attacks around him, he resolutely picked up a huge pen like a rafter, wrote this autobiographical "Confessions", and stripped himself naked in front of the world. Let people see a completely real Rousseau self. Better than any excuse and whitewash, all people are silent in the face of this real soul. Because people in front of him are like in front of a spotless flat mirror, reflecting the filth and ugliness of their souls. ![](https://storage.googleapis.com/papyrus_images/9a2f4ff18ba7dfce31a249cd489eac252e820c99480adf3e61640196a513b01e.png) As Rousseau said: I faithfully describe what kind of person I am, I will never hide whether I am contemptible or hateful, nor hide my kindness, generosity and nobleness: "I have exposed my inner heart that you cannot see. Summon my countless fellows around me, and let them hear my confession, let them sigh for my ugliness, let them be ashamed of my contempt. Let each of them pour out his heart with the same sincerity. Present before your throne, and see who dares to say to you: 'I am better than that man!'" I have no such courage. The image I show to everyone in front of the world is by no means what I am. There are many things, they are hidden in the depths of my heart, and only when I face myself alone can it emerge. It takes a lot of courage and courage to dissect oneself as ruthlessly as Rousseau did. Back in middle school, I read Rousseau's "Confessions" in a heartbeat because I read out so many dark torrents deep in my consciousness. That is, from then on, I learned to reflect, repent, self-discipline, and self-improvement in the diary, and I must be true to myself. I do not know how many times in the dead of night, I face the sky, looking for the light of God. I have lit stacks of thick diaries a few times in an attempt to destroy that terrifying devil in the midst of ashes. If all the diaries are collected, it may also be a "Confessions" belonging to me. Now that I'm reading Confessions again, my heart beats even more. Looking at my spiritual journey of nearly 18 years since I became an adult, I find that I am even more unable to face the mirror of Rousseau. There were more black torrents, inexorably rushing towards me, almost drowning me. I struggled in vain, even willingly throwing myself into the arms of the torrent. As if awakened from a nightmare, I sat up abruptly and opened my arms, eager to embrace the comfort of light and hope. In today's materialistic world, who can truly repent like you? On the day of farewell to the world, who can sleep as peacefully as you do? Just as I am writing these words in front of my computer and I am going to post them on my blog, can I still face friends near and far, and have the courage to say to them: "This is who I really am"? Rousseau, you make me let out a deep sigh once again—Alas! --- *Originally published on [raindrop](https://paragraph.com/@raindrop-2/confessions)*