Boring people are like this, they are idle in their free time, they want to do something, but they don't want to do it, they don't do it, and they don't know what to do. Especially for students on vacation, as everyone knows, time is wasted in this way.

Someone asked me what the point of writing my notes was. I don't want to answer that. In fact, I am also thinking about a question, that is, what is the meaning of the birth of life, if all this does not happen, then there will not be so many messy things.

I was also asked about my qualifications to criticize. I didn't deliberately criticize anyone, because I'm also lazy, what I criticized was just a phenomenon. As for the qualifications, it's very simple, because of my job.

Uninteresting questions are always unnourishing, just as it is ridiculous to ask a soldier who goes to war what qualifications he has to fight, if the person asking the question is a child, but if it is an older person, I am afraid that it will have to be linked to ignorance.

To be honest, I don't find much fun, most of what I endure is sadness, what is the meaning of a life full of sorrow?

Some people think I'm too egotistical. I don't deny it either. Since there is no one else, I can only do this. Otherwise, I'd be crazy.

Probably in the eyes of a depressed person, nothing can arouse his interest, right? Probably in the eyes of a restrained person, he will be embarrassed to open his mouth, right? Probably in the eyes of a person who has gone through vicissitudes, everything is a fallen leaf, right?

I have always been disobedient and unfaithful about something.

When the whole person is tired and loses all kinds of strength, silence is relatively the best medicine. Maybe a face-to-face intimate conversation between friends would be better, but that friend may not be to your taste, and a careless mood will get worse.

After all, the word friend is used a lot, and it is despised like dung, and it doesn't feel like my good brother in the song. It's also like the love in the TV series compared to the real one, one cup is strong coffee, one cup is boiled water, maybe sometimes you can add some sugar?

I have to divide the word friend into three levels: friend, true friend, confidant.

In this moment of heavy rain, I picked up a bench and faced the bamboo forest to see if I could find anything worth playing.

Suddenly it was dark.

It's like a movie, and I'm like a spectator. The difference is that I am not looking at a movie, and there is only one person in the audience.

A light flashed in the distance.

I smelled a pungent smell, like ** sulfur.

There was a sudden explosion of atomic nuclei, but I didn't feel glaring, and I didn't feel any discomfort.

I'm afraid only I would describe the explosion of destruction.

The smoke fluttered and rolled, and when it disappeared into invisibility, patches of black dead wood suddenly appeared.

I don't know how to describe them, they were as stiff as dead wood, and for some reason, my eyes saw so clearly in the dark.

Finally, there was a fire, it was originally one, but it turned out to be two, three, and finally thousands, tens of thousands.

There were people, countless people carrying countless torches, and their shouts made me a little confused.

Suddenly, they threw their torches into the dead wood forest, saying that it was a forest, but it was actually a forest, right?

The forest-like black dead wood was in the midst of the fire, and they suddenly left the soil, twisting their branches and dancing, and the flames burned, burned, and burned.

It's a weird dance, it's like — an old wizard dance.

The rain clouds were thick, and fortunately, the rain extinguished the fire in time.

But the rain is getting heavier and heavier, and instead of pouring, it is simply a fall. The raindrops bounced on the remnants of the dead wood, but there were so many raindrops that the branches could not bear the weight, and some simply broke and broke apart.

It's clearly raining all over the sky.

People are gone.

Thunder and lightning struck and brightened my forehead.

But I was expressionless and unmoved.

On the muddy road, a man in black slowly raised his gun and pointed at the bright moon above his head.

On the cliff wall, a colorful python spits out a letter, prostrate and stares at the young birds fluttering on the nest.

On the stage, a woman in a pink skirt stands on her toes and leans her arms back, showing her slender figure to the audience, and the lights are on.

The sound of gunfire broke the silence of everything. A bullet shot straight out with the trajectory of the gun, facing the Bright Moon.

The python slammed its ready head towards the nest, and the young bird died instantly.

The dancers danced gracefully, the pianist, the orchestra followed the rhythm, and the audience cheered desperately.

The gunfire did not stop, and one shot after another was fired at the Bright Moon.

The python did not stop, swallowing one young bird after another.

The dancers did not stop, jumping out of the melody on stage again and again.

The man on the muddy road went crazy, he suddenly took off his trousers, and actually pulled out a heavy machine gun, and shot it at the bright moon in the air.

The python twists its body frantically, and the parents of the young bird return to their nests - the eagle hisses and fights with the python with its sharp claws.

The music grew faster and faster, the dancers twisted their bodies wildly, and the audience screamed hysterically and their faces distorted.

The moon was infinitely magnified in the eyes of men, and the moon was pitch black and covered with craters. He dropped the gun, tore open the black suit on his upper body, and detonated the stored **.

The anaconda's internal organs were caught by the eagle, and blood splattered far away.

The dancer was exhausted and fainted on stage. The audience stood up and yelled, and some even threw a brick over it.

What a messy scene.

I muttered to myself without changing my face.

It's a bus, and the seats are just full, no more, no less.

After a screeching sound of the door opening, a man stepped on.

His steps are steady and light.

People don't lift their heads, they don't sleep, they don't look out the window, they just play with their mobile phones.

A girl moved in her seat.

The disdainful gaze, the cold gaze, the mocking gaze, the disdainful gaze, and the playful gaze were all focused on the buttocks that had left the seat at the same time.

Everything was done so smoothly that no one found out what anyone else was doing, because he was involved in it.

Suddenly, I felt something warm slip away from my heart, and one thing slipped out of everyone's hearts, and then they all gathered into the heart of the girl who stood up.

I was stunned. Others are accustomed to showing their selfish faces.

"Old man, sit here. ”

I kind of understand what a skyscape is.

It's a view that only boring people can feel.

Diary of April 3, 2016