In the middle of the night, at several o'clock in the morning, watching the works of several teachers made us silent.
In fact, most of the things posted by this account at night are written after wandering around.
But then I dare not look back.
I have to say, early morning is indeed a good time for emotional outbursts.
I once told myself that it's best not to do anything meaningful when emotions are high.
But that doesn't really matter. The city is asleep, and late-night poets are interpreting the city's dreams.
I have nothing to say to you, I have no experiences worth your tears.
As a detached student, a flower in a greenhouse, enjoying the peaceful years with that group of people.
I have a relatively affluent family, currently decent grades, and average interpersonal relationships.
To be honest, I have nothing to write about, nothing to express, and I'm not the kind of person who reads youth literature about pain.
The only thing I can say is "there's trouble in the small circle," an online version (sorry, I always compare her to MyGO).
I watch friends build tall buildings, while I sink into self-pity halfway up the mountain, like a late-stage cancer patient, unable to go up or down, stuck here.
Onstage and offstage, those familiar stories, but I'm not in them, it's sigh-inducing.
Wearing a mask for too long, I will pick different masks from the closet to continue wearing.
It doesn't matter, that's just how it is, if you see it, please don't talk about it.
Oops, it seems like it's turning into a QQ space again, I hope I'm not following in her footsteps.
Whatever, actually, it doesn't matter, this is my blog (laughs).
Consider it my self-indulgence, this is our, human, world, God, or whatever, arrangement.
Yes, it has nothing to do with me, let it rot in the depths, I'm at peace with it.
Reality is still reality, it can only be that reality.
Is it dark? Not dark, those who seek light can always see the dawn, or the most beautiful sunset.
I really want to spend my life in an ivory tower, I want to see the best future, I don't want to bury my dream that I never had but has already passed.
I dare not be a Don Quixote charging at windmills, nor do I want to be an otto wasting away in the comfortable circle of a live broadcast room.
Life must go on, I have already developed an addiction to "mediocrity."
Life has not kissed me with pain, I respond with silence.
Destiny remains silent, I will not speak, is God laughing behind my back?
I have not been steady, I have not shone, just an ordinary person.
I have not experienced a night in Texas, I have not had my spiritual support destroyed on a rainy night.
I can't forget crychic, but I don't know if there will be a mujica ahead.
I have become "human," really, have I?
Are you? I think I am, like a stray dog.
Will you be happy? Will I be happy? I am still young, I am still young...
In the end, writing our own stories is easy, you can think of me as a high school student having a breakdown in the middle of the night.
Is it a bit of stream of consciousness? Maybe, this is my soliloquy, let's talk about turning left and right, technology, and learning tags.
Don't worry, if it comes to my final swan song, I won't come here to post, writing it out feels much better.
After all, I probably won't have the energy to wait for your precious xLog to load (laughs).
Best wishes, may my blessings be with you (sincerely!).
The day has dawned, it's a new day again.