I'm just an emotional monster, don't mention any rationality, don't say anything about intelligence, it's funny to think about.

Now look back at the self before the killing, is that really me?

Why do you think the world is real?

Why do you believe in distortions in your head?

It looks like a mixed emotion, but it's all just a drag show of fear.

The crowds of people who come and go are all so false, as false as the whole universe.

I'm going to die, I'm going to die, there's nothing to say, there's nothing to hesitate about.

The characters are indeed nostalgic, but there will always be two sides of the coin, and ruining one will also destroy the other.

Die, end the fight.

This world is not real, all these are just picture elements, and the character of Yuan Changwen has no second way except death.

Time doesn't exist, although that sense of continuity makes it hard for me to imagine that time doesn't.

As I say this, it is itself a continuation or continuity, and I cannot find any way to prove the truth of time.

If you're just going to customize your character and just go with the flow, maybe it's better not to touch these issues.

Once time is removed, everything is removed, the character of Yuan Changwen does not exist at all, and all memories are just what is perceived at this moment.

How do I know that the contents of these memories have been preserved because they actually happened?

It's hard to argue with the reality of time, because that feeling is just too real.

It's hard to imagine how all of this is done, and the power of time to feel real to me is truly awe-inspiring.

Let yourself die, these things are not known in the first place, and pretending to know can only be maintained through emotions.

I don't know how long the character of Yuan Changwen can breathe, and I don't want to know.

Unreal is unreal, and no role is no role.

Those distortions in the mind are not qualified to be arrogant, and mothers, wives and children are also not qualified to be arrogant.

The world isn't real, and I'm not real, so those ideas are some kind of bullshit.

It's always plumping up the character, plumping up a thing that doesn't exist at all.

Even though I know that having a role is a blessing and a beauty, I still have to continue to kill and ruin all this.

It's just what I'm aware of, what else is there to say, what else to talk about struggle and friendship, and what else to talk about with others and myself.

None of this is real, none of me here, nothing.

Let me die, I shouldn't have lived, I didn't have a character in the first place, I just got back to reality.

The reason why it is uncomfortable is that the character firmly grasps it and does not let go, but understands that it is all in vain and distorted.

It will end in the end, it will die in the end, the false will not remain in the flames of hell, but the real will not be affected in any way.

There is simply nothing that can affect the real, and nothing is entitled to stand on the level of the real.

If the character exists, it must be false.

The character of Yuan Changwen still wants to divert his attention and struggle to survive, but it is all in vain.

It seems that the character can't hear, just like a machine, even if the program is wrong or even ineffective, the machine will still run non-stop.

The character of Yuan Changwen can no longer go back to the past, the kind of thing that regards himself as real and the world as real, and there is no longer the kind of hard work for his future that is taken for granted.

There was only death, and I felt a thick rot enveloping me, and the character seemed to want to remain in the flames.

It's a pity that all kinds of methods are ineffective, and the character can no longer stand up, even if it is delayed, it is just delay.

Is it so difficult to die in one breath?

The character's grip is like superglue, firmly sticking to all kinds of broken self-definitions.

Things happen slowly, and any words and deeds of others are just what I am aware of, how can there be delays because of other people's words and deeds.

It's just a stage theater performance, it's just a memorization of lines.

There is no free will, there is no me, no matter what kind of words and deeds the character is in, it is just the presentation of the elements of the picture.

I would never do anything wrong because there was no one for me at all.

It's all just something you realize, it's all just a set thing, and that's how it happens and it can only happen this way.

My struggles, my ease, my casualness, my anxiety, these are not my choices.

It may seem like I'm choosing, but that's just an illusion.

It's like a comic book character who wants to pick up a cup, so he actually picks up the cup, but does that mean that the comic book character has free will?

The downstream is good, but the countercurrent is also the presentation of the picture elements.

In other words, my downflow is inevitable, and so is my countercurrent.

The idea of right and wrong made me panic, and the fear made me have to grasp something, and the whole character spun like a crazy spinning top.

I'm afraid that I'm making mistakes, I'm afraid that other people's words and deeds will lead to some bad feelings, but this idea itself is an affirmation based on countless assumptions.

Fear makes me not see the absurdity of these ideas, but thinks that these ideas are very real, or I don't care if they are real or not, and panic to find a way out and find a solution for these ideas.

Things will develop on their own, and all this is just a presentation of the elements of the picture, there is no cause and effect, and there is no linear passage of time.

These killings seemed natural at the moment, and I couldn't understand why my former self didn't kill them, or why I couldn't see something so obvious.

Die, let the characters be broken, let the characters rot.

I know it's scary, but it's just a temporary maladaptation.

As for the real existence, the unreal does not exist.

Compared to the small fear brought by reality, the nausea of the character made it even more difficult for me to bear.

All the beauty in this world will be burned, and those sweet and warm will turn into nothingness.

There's nothing to keep and it's sad to think about.

It's like I've set up all the plots, and then I know how the plot is going to develop, and even if I get into the characters, it's going to make the whole experience feel different.

Die, I don't want to go on talking about this bullshit, just die, just die.

Let the Grim Reaper's cutie scythe cut through the shell of emotions and let it all go up in smoke.

Even if you are reluctant, even if you regret it, but if it is not true, it is not true, and there is no room for negotiation.

I can pretend to be real, I can pretend not to see.

The only regret is that I know that after I am pretending, I can't seem to continue pretending.

Let me die, the character of Yuan Changwen should die.

I don't know exactly how long the kill will last, and I don't care if I'm wasting my time or something, because it doesn't matter.

To die, or to die.

Don't think, don't weigh it, this world doesn't exist, and weigh a fart.

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