People write things down to commemorate certain events. But as time passes, those things tend to be forgotten. If it's for remembrance, it's really more about forgetting.

Close Your Eyes, Reluctant to Face Yesterday

At least for now, I feel that 2025 is the year I least want to recall, and among it, summer is what I least want to remember. Those days lacked color; they were filled with endless darkness and a collapsing sky. At the same time, this is also a rift with the past.

Spring and Winter, Not Knowing What Storms Lie Ahead

In general, these six months had only three things worth remembering.

The first thing is turning sixteen. Sixteen means a lot, but for me, mainly that I could submit the filing on my own. After all, it's something I've looked forward to for two years; I was quite excited when the filing was accepted. The server needed for the filing was purchased in August 2024 (the summer after the middle-school entrance exams). From summer to winter vacation, it seemed six months, but in reality it was longer than I expected. Perhaps that's the power of anticipation: it can stretch a period of time invisibly. What was even longer was the filing approval period. The first submission took a long time to review, and with the approach of the new year, it took less than seven days. The second submission took about four days, but the Sichuan regulator was fairly efficient and approved it in three days.

After the winter break, a new term begins, with a new class after selecting subjects, new classmates, new teachers and a new homeroom teacher.

People who know me know that I am an 'ordinary' administrator of our school's MC server. The school's MC server was established as early as 2022, and yet it's already three years old and still not officially recognized by the school. According to the admin himself, there was a teacher who was well-connected with him who asked if he wanted to start a club, but he politely declined. So when this matter was raised at a discussion meeting, it became my responsibility.

Our school is fairly large; between two teaching buildings there is an administrative building. At that time my classroom was at one end of the teaching building, and the secretary of the Youth League Committee was at the other end, with one more floor between. This person wasn't always in the office, so after the club was established the legends of 'roaming pancakes a hundred times sprinting to find the Youth League secretary' and 'twelve frantic runs in a week, only five successful' were born. Later, they casually replaced the president, casually held a recruitment meeting and recruited twenty-odd people; and that was that.

Then comes our school's tradition—the sports meet. And our school has another 'tradition', that the sports meet must be livestreamed (just kidding, it started in 2022). Coincidentally, I am a director at our school's Integrated Media Center. Coincidentally, the MC server moderator from our school is also the head of the Integrated Media Center and a director. (Although only the theoretical parts were taught by him, and it didn't play a big role, but after all, a master leads you to the door, right?) So this was started in a rush, and then it was three days of continuous work: sitting at the director's desk for three days, meal tickets were useless, hot meals couldn't be had (the canteen closed after the event), not a drop of water drank (because I didn't know where water was, and no logistics brought me any). It was hard and tiring, but before it ended I didn't feel the hardship or fatigue. The dream, the emptiness after it ends, is all just empty talk. In short, those three days of livestreaming were still very happy and fulfilling.

Summer, Autumn, Winter: The Suppression Finally Explodes

So we finally arrive at the main topic, the year's emotional undercurrent — two characters: depression; five characters: I have Yu Yu syndrome (although it's not diagnosed yet, and I don't know whether it exists, or whether it has improved).

I have a habit: I digest all emotions on my own, basically bottling them up. There is an old adage about chemical equilibrium: during industrial ammonia synthesis, increasing pressure reduces volume, increases reaction rate, but higher pressure also raises the demands on equipment. Obviously, I am not a container for ultra-high-pressure reactions, but I didn't realize that— even though at the start of 2025 I already felt my emotions were off, I couldn't muster motivation, and felt a bit lost. Then, at the end of June, I exploded.

How I exploded, I won't say much here; I'm afraid recalling it will explode again (in fact I can't remember much, because the brain's self-preservation mechanism has erased most memories from June-August; I am currently blank about that period). But at least I made the right choice: see a doctor, then go with my mom to see a doctor. Because of some earlier events, minors must be accompanied by a guardian to consult the psychology department. I thought my mom would yell at me and this would be the end of it. But reality told me I was wrong. It turned out she had already noticed my emotional imbalance, had already wanted to talk to me, and the opportunity was one I had rejected myself.

People only learn after firsthand experience. And 'The only lesson humanity learns from history is that humanity will not learn any lesson from history,' as Liu Cixin wrote in The Three-Body Problem. I think the mental state of that period can be glimpsed from the writings of that time.

Later came medication and psychotherapy; 2025 thus slipped away quietly.

Open Your Eyes, Hoping to See the Morning Sun

Although this article is titled 'The Aftermath of 2025 and My 17th Birthday in 2026' (where the aftermath is, you’re off-topic for sure), the actual writing time was after the birthday, but it doesn't matter; the publication time can be changed (laugh).

Originally, this section would include birthday wishes for turning 17, but as you can see, the birthday has passed, so what need for wishes? So I'll just write something casually.

Back to the opening, I said 'writing down things for remembrance ends up for forgetting,' but I had written before that 'people always hold onto past things with some attachment.' So some say, aren’t you contradicting yourself? What do you think? It isn't contradictory, because these two things are talking about different things. 'Write down' and 'keep a record' cannot be equated, can they? (laugh)

Okay, that's about it; with this article, let's give 2025 an imperfect closing.

Closing inscription

Actually, writing about烧瑚烙饼 and 易曦维光 here isn't important. You just need to know that we will eventually bid farewell to the past. Completed January 16, 2026.

Afterword: Some things I realized I missed after finishing

First, 'The Aftermath' should be better translated as 'Life After the Calamity' since the calamity hadn't erupted the year before. But 'The Aftermath' isn't a big issue, since I started taking medicine around September and by November it was mostly controlled (so I don't know if I was actually sick). If you insist on 'aftermath', it's not a big deal.

Also, I embedded a small idea in the article slug: From death to birth, death to life, rhymes with |θ|, and roughly matches 'The Aftermath of the Calamity.' But this isn't important because you won't really see the address bar.

Due to time constraints (this article was written during a full study session, and it's not finished yet), some content was omitted, such as why mid-way we changed to a new site, a new domain, and new names. If there's a chance, I'll tell you more later.

(Also, the frontend of this site has been upgraded to Shiroi, as a little birthday gift to myself.)