There is no me at all in the presentation of picture elements, and thinking is just picture elements.

There's nothing remarkable, there's nothing special, and this thinking can be shattered at any time.

The thought I firmly grasped was just a point of light that dissipated at any time.

This time, the words "none of me" just exuded power, like a giant mallet striking my grasp.

Then, the shatter began to spread, and a slight panic stretched through the body, and what I thought was important was just.

And for this thinking, I firmly grasped it with emotion, but I still couldn't resist the spread of brokenness.

On the one hand, emotions are still grabbing, the fear of letting go, the fear of discarding the role.

On the other hand, it is the spread of fragmentation, knowing that the so-called characters are just the presentation of picture elements, and they can't grasp it at all.

The most important thing is that the thinking of this role has nothing to do with me.

"I thought I was thinking like this", this sentence is completely a direct presentation of the elements of the picture.

It's the same with characters, it's the same with memories, there's nothing special at all.

I don't need to work hard, all I can do is not hinder devouring.

Eventually, all of this will dissipate, the character will inevitably die, and the mind will be shattered as if it had never existed.

Why is there a fear of "no role"?

I don't know, and I don't need to dwell on this issue, the causality of the character's words and actions does not exist in itself.

There is no me, I have said this sentence countless times, and it is only at this moment that I really understand the meaning.

It's not slashing, it's not anger and madness, it's more like you're recording a broken state.

The gloomy devouring is inside the body, expanding at any moment and then devouring the entire character.

It seems that the usual feeling of devouring is not the same as his, before it was like watching a storm through a window.

Now, the windows seem to have been blown open by a storm, and you can feel the terrifying atmosphere.

There was nothing to grasp, and although I still dare not throw it away like a trembling child, this insistence was in vain.

It's just a product of emotion, and reason has long known the falsehood of the character, how long can I hold on to it?

Just break it like this, let me be swallowed up by the depression and melancholy in my heart, and let the role of Yuan Changwen dissipate from now on.

The thought I firmly grasped was just a pictorial element, no different from a leaf.

The character is the presentation of the picture elements, and the words of others are also the presentation of the picture elements, what does all this have to do with me?

The world is about to move away from me, and I will no longer be able to feel the good things, and at the same time, I will not be able to be disturbed by fear and the like.

The beauty of the world, the evil of the world, the sweet moments, the frightened ghosts, these will all leave me.

Suddenly I don't know, what are the benefits of doing this.

Although I've always thought that falsehood is wonderful, because it's what makes characters and allows for all kinds of emotions.

However, I didn't expect this location to be so desolate.

Or rather, to be more aware of what you're going to be facing.

There's nothing to kill, because everything is unreal, and that sense of restraint is absurd in itself.

The characters are bound, what does it have to do with reality?

Moreover, the bondage of the character and the killing of the character are all direct presentations of the elements of the picture, and there is no causal relationship.

The character has to die, I'm going to leave the character, and only then can another thing come in.

The twist in my brain can't continue to be arrogant, even if I don't pay attention, it's just a short period of presumptuousness.

Now, Twist is like my pet, maybe it can be presumptuous, but it doesn't have much influence after all.

What was once seen as a monster is now only a pet-level existence.

No matter how powerful the distortion is, no matter how sophisticated the means of falsehood, it only hinders the characters from knowing the truth.

And for the truth, the false is powerless, and this is completely two levels of things.

It doesn't matter what the character is, and even though I want to destroy the character, I don't necessarily have to think about it to get the elements of the picture.

The role of Yuan Changwen is dispensable, and the whole world is dispensable.

There was no slaughter, no anger, just quietly waiting for death to come.

Whatever else is arrogant in the head, it's not important at all.

The act of kicking out the brain itself is to ensure that the brain is clear, and the whole character is fake, so just throw it away.

Those distortions are presumptuous in the brain, and I will destroy the brain directly, what kind of distortion does it matter to you.

There is no need to slash one by one, all distortions are ridiculous, and all of them are false.

Without characters and minds, is there anything else to kill?

As for the emotional pull, it is still unreal, no matter what the content of the emotional pull is, it is not real.

Fear is nothing, not only because the content of the fear is unreal, but also because the fear itself is not real.

I don't need to argue about what you can't accomplish anything, what no one dares to say that you can't achieve nothing in life, and so on.

See fear, see worry, see those twists, oh, unreal.

This concludes the discussion.

If you want to fear me, you can feel as much fear as you want.

Those worries, those panics, whatever emotions don't matter.

These are just representations of the elements of the picture, there is no authenticity to speak of, and it does not affect anything.

Come and go when you want, I don't have any opinions.

None of this has anything to do with me, I'm just that awareness, and everything about the characters is a picture element.

Then, anything can be presented, including the resistance and obedience of the mind, which are just the elements of the picture presented.

What's so great, and what's so special.

There is no need to say anything at all, and there is no need to kill anything, the whole character is thrown away.

A part of himself is dead, and the rest will die.

The feeling of devouring is gone, and so are the emotions, and all thoughts are perhaps the best description.

I don't know how this situation is and I don't need to know.

The black reality is there, it has never changed, it is so still.

There is no time, no space, no evolution, no vastness of galaxies.

Nothing, it's just that the truth is there.

It's beyond my imagination, but my imagination is a piece of.

It's just a black lump that is really there, how is this possible?

Maybe I was deceived, the teacher and many ancient sages and the like, it's just.

All of this may just be a change of mindset, not something real.

Maybe you really only have one life, maybe the character is me, maybe it's all real.

I have nothing to object to, that devouring feeling reappears, and the dissipation of the character becomes inevitable.

Even if the characters don't dissipate, I don't pay as much attention to the characters as I used to.

And I don't seem to have any objection to anything happening.

It's just a thing, nothing is nothing, nothing needs to be judged.