To think that there is a future is a layer of deception.

Thinking that the future can be controlled is the second layer of deception.

This moment is all, even if I don't want to admit it, but I can only prove it now.

If you still want to fear me, then let it be fearful. I welcome it and promise that there will be no resistance. I'm like a lazy person, and I'll still be lazy even if you whip me.

It's not insistence, it's not that Qingshan doesn't let go, it's just laziness.

I was so lazy that I was so scared that I was scared and didn't move, and it was originally a strong emotion to pull because I was too lazy to be effective.

The scum of society, scum, garbage, shit?

What else, I can throw it all over, and those distortions that occupy my mind won't let me go so easily.

Perhaps, no one can live like nature. That kind of surrender, that kind of resignation, is not something that humans can do at all. Moreover, the human thing is deliberately created to be detached from reality, and can be self-righteous to believe in the distortion in the mind, which is the meaning of human existence.

If it's just touching the truth, why bother planning this dream.

I don't know what the point of all this is, why there is such a thing as life, why I am here. I don't know, and I don't want to know.

Providing meaning in life is just a guess of one's own. Even if this speculation is recognized by everyone, even if this speculation can be reasonable, even if this speculation has been circulating for hundreds of millions of years, it is only a speculation.

It's always a joy to be recognized for a role. Except for the untruthfulness, there seems to be no way to refute it at all. The same is true of those moral traditions, distortions are distortions, and it is quite difficult to refute them in terms of content.

Remembering the beauty of the world, maybe this is the character's last struggle. No matter how hateful and false I am, I have to admit that this unreal world is 10,000 times more exciting, 10,000 times fuller, and 10,000 times more interesting than the black reality.

Should stop there and enjoy this unreal world. After all, if it's not true, then the content of fear will seem mindless. And the world is starting to go along with me, and that's a great feeling.

It seems that I have just entered the world and have just begun to interact with nature. And the former self was just spinning in his own head, trapped in the high wall of thought.

I'd love to sit and I'd be happy to stop killing. The leaves are so green, you can't describe your feelings with emerald green, maybe it's too green to say.

I never thought that just a color would be so full of life. The leaves change in light and shadow, even on a cloudy day without sunlight, the unchanged leaves look so full.

It's as if a simple green leaf contains something beyond imagination, and I am just beginning to perceive these things at this moment. It wasn't just one color, it was a thousand words that eventually converged into green and came at me.

They've always been there, I'm rejecting them, and they're always there.

Will you feel anxious because I don't listen? Will you force me to listen to the leaves under the banner of "I'm good for you"? Will you worry that my life is just a kind of impetuousness?

They won't.

The bird sped by, carrying the leaves and swinging with them. And the breeze, who doesn't seem to want the leaves to stay there like that, maybe swinging is the way to go.

They ignored me, they were just there. It's not the leaves beckoning to me, it's that they've always been like this, just that I happened to look at it, and I allowed myself to see it.

It all came in without the distortion in the mind. The walls of thought are not imprisoned, but I let the outside world in. I wanted to go out whenever I wanted, but fear always pulled me and kept me from discarding the thinking that I had known for so many years.

It's too noisy, it's too ugly, and the distortion in the brain shouldn't exist at all. Those baseless affirmations, those that are obviously fearful but pretend to be hot-blooded, inspirational, and kind, it is better to disappear them all.

There's nothing like that leaf.

Even, clothes hanging on the windowsill to dry are good.

They make me much more comfortable than the twists in my head.

Yuan Changwen was alone in the depths of the lake, falling alone, and no one knew that he was smiling at the moment. Maybe the lake knows, but the lake doesn't speak. Or, you are just beginning to understand the water and feel it.

I always wanted the characters to be great, and I wanted it all to be character-centric. But in fact, I've always been character-centric, and I just want to be at the center of the world.

And this absurdity of fighting for the character is just to divert my attention from the question of authenticity.

It's not enough, it's not over yet, it's further.

The distortion in my mind is not qualified to exist in any case, and those people and things that affect me are not qualified to be presumptuous in my mind.

No matter how noble a family member is, or how affectionate a partner is, those things that must be done, and those ideas that drag me down, are all distorted. No one can qualify in my head, it's all just artificially distorted, it's all false.

How should I play the role of a husband? I'm not interested in this kind of thing. The distortion that tugged at me will eventually dissipate.

Death is the best companion, there is no me at all, these things that are firmly grasped are just a kind of fear. It's fear that makes me grasp those self-definitions and keep believing in the twists in my head.

Unreal is unreal, what would I do without this?

The characters may be sad and sad, but after all, there is no character at all. It's not me who is sad, it's not me who is sad, it's just the presentation of the elements of the picture. Even if I'm asleep, even if I can't finish the kill, it doesn't affect that.

The real exists, but the unreal does not exist.

I never existed, and no one will remember me. These precious memories will also disappear. These firmly grasped self-definitions, those ideas that argue with others to the point of red-facedness, and any other life, will all disappear.

It's like it didn't exist at all.

It will not leave any traces, because other people are only picture elements, not real.

I will die, and I will die. Destroy yourself without reservation, no matter what it is, you are not qualified to stay. And again, no matter what it is, damage and loss are non-existent.

There is no escape.

Back to the way I used to be, I have no interest, even if I get killed, I won't go back. Moreover, I was expecting to be killed, sticking out my head for you to chop off, exposing my chest for you to stab.

Moving forward, it seems impossible to move forward at all. It's all just the presentation of the elements of the picture, and nothing can stand in the way. So, where does this sense of obstruction come from, and how do I overcome this non-existent obstacle?

Perhaps, only death.