All of them are gifts, and the presentation of the whole picture element is a gift in itself.

Without falsehood, there would be no world, and the state of the present would not be present.

I was able to go from point A to point B, not because of my walking, but because the elements of the picture were presented in this way.

Presenting such a complex gadget allows me to experience and immerse myself in it.

Even if it's fear, it seems to have become a lot cuter.

The whole body is full of the power of gifts, and I want to thank too much, but I don't know where to start.

The urge to be grateful is as irrepressible as a fountain, as if you are thirsty and want to drink water.

How can you not be grateful?

What kind of distortion can resist this gift?

It's not over yet, even if gratitude is great, even if bathing in divine grace is indeed comfortable, but it's not a reason to stop.

The twist in his brain continued to slash, even though there was no more anger and madness.

I have to say that I seem to be starting to change, at the level of my role.

The family who hindered him before seems to be no longer worth mentioning.

In the face of the downstream, the family-related concept, the pull of the previous emotions, seems to have no power at all.

I'd rather go with the flow than trust in the twists in my head.

Before, there would be a so-called tug-of-war, which was because of the pull of emotions, which forcibly made me dare not discard the distortion in my mind.

Now, without the pull of emotions, the twist in the brain seems to have no power at all.

I still think about distortions, but I know I'm thinking, and I know that the reason I can't let go of it is just fear.

The rest is just slowly destroyed.

I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, or if it's worth pursuing for someone else.

It's all character-level stuff anyway, it has nothing to do with reality, and it's the key to me moving forward.

Shaping a character into a certain state, even if it is not distorted, even if it is full of lightheartedness, naturalness and fearlessness, is only false.

The characters themselves are distorted, and this cannot be changed in any way.

However, I'm not sure if I can really stay?

Even in the midst of that gifted gratitude, I still want to keep going, or rather, the feeling of devouring still reminds me.

It's not over yet, and no matter how wonderful it is, it's no excuse to stop.

The fragmentation of the role will inevitably proceed, and those so-called important will dissipate in the air.

The idea of being important is itself distorted and simply untenable.

And all of them were firmly in control of my brain, just because the emotions were pulling.

Now, emotions are dissipating, or rather, in the face of disgust and falsehood, the so-called important is returning to its place.

Nothing is important, nothing is necessary, not even the slash itself.

Family, mother, wife and children, these gradually become ethereal and distant.

The thoughts and emotions of "how can you treat your family like this" are gradually peeling off.

I don't see the importance of my family, I don't see the importance of my wife and children, I don't see the importance of money.

All of them were just afraid of the bewitching woman, whipping me with impunity.

There's nothing remarkable about me in this state, there's nothing neurotic about it, it's just this state.

Thankfully, no one else was around, and fortunately it was alone.

Otherwise, just convincing others to approve of my killing will form a pull for a long time, and even become another kind of obstacle.

In fact, killing is just a character's words and actions, and there is no difference between other words and actions.

It can be stopped, or it can be touted, just like other words and deeds, it is all a role-level thing.

It doesn't matter at all.

Before, I would want to convince others, because I didn't have anyone else around, so I would fantasize about convincing others.

Then, the other party was dumbfounded by himself or something.

Isn't this enriching the character?

Turning slashing into another character attribute, falsehood is to have this means to steal the concept.

I don't know why I have dreams, and I don't know why I want to plan for the future.

Perhaps, everyone is not at all what I thought, full of fear.

Right, this kind of thinking is just wishful thinking on my part, and although I am, maybe everyone is full of love?

I don't even know what other people are thinking, so what am I trying to convince?

That urge to convince others is a plump character in itself, but is there anything wrong with that?

Is there anything wrong with busty characters?

No, right, it's just a personal preference.

The world has shown me the absurdity as it has shown its gifts.

No matter what I say or what I say, it's just "I think".

Maybe that's why the teacher asked me to watch it myself.

There is no need to listen to other people's teachings, and there is no need to take other people's weapons as your own glory.

The shattering continues, and I continue to incite the shattering, the destruction of the characters.

The frame of the character is still holding back the explosion, and it is really a solid structure.

I felt my nausea, my disgust, the urge to vomit had reached its limit.

The character has to die, and I don't have any reason to keep the character, even though it's a suicidal act.

It's been a long time since the dark reality has come to look at me, and maybe the next time will be to jump into the abyss.

The role will gradually dissipate, there will be no role, no thinking.

Can you really do it yourself?

And the presentation of the elements of the picture, this gift, seems to make me not even have the urge to doubt.

More and more contradictions, it seems that the contradictions in the previous sentence have to be explained in the next sentence.

And the next sentence itself has contradictions, and then it is constantly explained.

But there is no end to it.

I didn't know what to do, and waiting for the characters to slowly shatter seemed too slow.

It's about to break, it's about to explode, but it's always a little bit worse.

What else do I not see?

What am I still grabbing?

Fuck off, I don't have any interest in the character, whatever the role, it's going to dissipate.

These are just the presentation of picture elements, and there is no reality in this world.

The same words countless times, obviously such a simple thing, how can it be so difficult to kill?

And those thick classic books, do you really need so many words to expound the truth?

I was squeezing myself, letting the explosion in my body feel squeezed and had to explode.

There's nothing to resist, and now, if someone tries to persuade me to get out of this bad state, I'm not even interested in rebutting it.

It's just an NPC saying what they should be saying, just reciting lines.

Perhaps, I will still want to refute and win, but that in itself means that I am not done yet.

None of this is true.

And I don't know when it's going to be done, when I'm going to wake up.

It seems that even the part of regret is dead.

In the end, there may be nothing left, just an empty shell, just a human form. (https:)

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