How beautiful words can be
Probably I spent a whole paragraph and could not describe the rainy day, the heavens and the earth were covered with water, the rain from top to bottom, from left to right spread scene, but read in the book "Muddy twilight, eaves rain like rope"
Later, I decided not to dwell on some things anymore, and the people who had been thinking about it day and night, and the questions that had never been answered, were suddenly relieved.
"I burned all my naivety and humanity with persistence, and the wilderness slowly grew into reason, indifference, and sobriety."
The cruel literature of youth that once felt pretentious, after I grew up, even read a little bit of truth.
I delight this world with pain
By the time I noticed my body, it was old and powerless to go back to heaven
Many parts exchange pain: stomach, arms, legs, fingers
I suspect I'm doing a lot of evil in this world
Speak ill of the flowers that have bloomed. I suspect I love the night
Despised the early morning
Fortunately, some pain can be omitted: abandoned, alone
Taken in by a long period of desolation
I'm ashamed to say about these: I really don't love them enough
Why am I not happy
I slowly understood why I wasn't happy myself, because I was always expecting a result.
Reading a book expects it to make me deeper, eating and swimming expecting it to make me lean down, sending a text message expecting it to respond, writing a story about a mood expecting it to be noticed and comforted. Attending an event is expected to be rewarded with a fulfilling and enriching experience.
If these preset expectations are realized, breathe a sigh of relief, but what if they are not realized? Self-pity.
But when I was a child, I was also the same me, spending an afternoon watching the ants move, waiting for the stones to blossom, not expecting results when I was a child, and not discounting when I was a child
Mad "Allow Yourself to Waste Time"