Death, I never thought that the road to the real world would be like this.

The negative emotions that I used to hate have become much cuter for some reason.

That's the way it is, what else is there to say?

Explode, shatter, and let it all dissipate.

If the sun stands in my way, then kill the sun. If I stand in my way, then kill myself.

There wasn't a single me, and there wasn't a single one to kill.

There is no one with a knife, nor one with a slash.

How is it so unreasonable?

I don't know what kind of stage play is being played, but there is no one here, and even the audience doesn't know where it is.

Absurdity needs to be set off by normality, and all of them are absurd, which is equivalent to saying nothing.

It doesn't matter where I am, no matter what profession I have, no matter how noble or humble my status is.

There was no one on the stage, but they were dressed as adults. What is in that body, and if it is nothing, how can it sustain such a rich human nature?

I don't understand and I can't figure it out, but what kind of drive is it that keeps me analyzing and analyzing all this?

I respect my brain, and my mind seems to be all I have. Even with the so-called method of immortality, consciousness preservation seems to be the first option.

Since the body can be replaced, will it be possible to change consciousness in the future?

There is only infinity, and the limitations are like bubbles, just showing such a scene. The awareness was on the side, watching all this lifelessly.

The mind is not in that position of awareness, so what is the real thing in the end?

I can't figure it out, but it doesn't affect moving forward. What I need is what I already have. Even if you don't think so, there's nothing wrong with that.

What's wrong with a character on stage who thinks they should have more? But in fact, what the character needs is what he already has.

The plot is so developed, the plot is so driven, it seems unreasonable, in fact it is just that.

That's how the drama goes, and no matter what the characters think, they can't escape the fact that it's all that.

How can a character not have what he already has? No matter what the character is going to do, everything is ready, because that's the plot.

There's nothing wrong with wanting more, maybe that's the dramatic tension, maybe it's the dramatic conflict. The so-called unpreparedness is also true, and maybe it is just better.

Not being ready is a kind of preparation in itself. is not ready for the characters, but for the plot, it is just right.

Broken heart, no matter how much you sew it up, it's just barely possible. The light that shines through the cracks can't be covered no matter how much you sew it.

Of course, I can choose to turn a blind eye.

Unfortunately, what seeped out of the gap was not a warm and comfortable light, but a devouring that was darker than pitch black.

To fight this devouring, I had to do everything I could to divert my attention, and I had to hold on to the fear so that I wouldn't be devoured.

It's like a whirlpool in the ocean, and it makes your scalp tingle just thinking about it.

Death is not the end, thinking does not exist, and the metaphor of the vortex is only a description of the feeling of devouring. A more figurative statement would be the turmoil before birth.

The birds are chirping, the wind is blowing, but they are all unreal.

People come and go, bustling, and the hustle and bustle seems to be pushed into the distance by an invisible force. Maybe I should go to the bar again and see what all this is all about.

Contrary to human nature, he was trembling with fear, but he still killed indiscriminately like a madman.

And how?

The birds are still chirping, the wind is still blowing, but this time I know it's not true.

There are so many things that you don't know what they are. Where do these so-called life events come from?

The influence of time fascinated me, as if I was shrouded in layers of veil and couldn't see the distance. Layer after layer, that feeling of being so real that I never doubt whether this manga is real or not.

Where are you? and where am I?

Let me burn it all, no matter what kind of yarn, no matter how it is shrouded, it will be clean after burning. No matter how complex the structure is, no matter how perfect and subtle the deception is, it is just a layer of yarn after all.

The world is not real, and neither am I.

What an embarrassing explanation, what an unreasonable assertion.

I can't believe it myself, what else can I say about anyone else?

The strange thing is that the feeling of devouring has not stopped, and it seems that I will be in this sadness for the rest of my life.

Good things, bad things? I don't know, and I don't want to know.

At this moment, I am not finished, I am still asleep, still in this falsehood. But I know that no matter what the character is, it doesn't affect the reality in the slightest.

Come on, no matter what happens, it won't affect me. Nothing can stop me, nothing can hurt me, not even anything that is equal to me.

Because, there is no me at all.

Can you hurt "without me"?

Yuan Changwen, what a beautiful name, there is no need to list the meaning and historical origin of any words. Just because of the appearance, it is enough to prove that it is beautiful and beautiful.

Repulsion, rejection, and dislike are just personal preferences. But what is not perfect in the whole world of duality?

People who hate eating bitter gourd can say that they don't like bitter gourd, but they can't deny that the existence of bitter gourd is a kind of perfection.

It's good for the two to be happy, it's not bad to get along day and night, and it's no problem to have different lovers every day.

Fear makes our preferences all about the same.

Unfortunately, it's not true. This sentence is like a magic spell, engraved in my mind.

Things that used to be so easy to sway me seem to be becoming weak. Isn't that enough, and that's the end?

No, it's not enough.

But when all this does not exist, when I don't exist at all, when there is no one I am killing, where do I go?

Picking up arms and killing all the falsehoods is certainly exciting. But the one with the knife doesn't exist in his own right, so how can he end it?

How do you kill yourself?

The awareness was still cold, and the reality was still black.

Unbelievable existence, detached from the lowest logic, ridiculous to the point of being more absurd, this is the truth.

I'm in Hell, but Hell isn't infinite, so I'm going to be walked through.

It's not that I'm worried and afraid, it's just that I'm worried and scared, so what's the matter?

Forget about everything that isn't real, including myself. Nothing can leave a mark on my heart, the unreal does not exist.

Even if it is forcibly left behind, I know very well that the trace itself is false.

It is definitely possible to move forward, because there is no obstruction.