We-are-such-stuff-As-dreams-are-made-on.

I love this quote from Shakespeare, Duke of Milan, Prospero, in The Tempest. The sentence translates to "Our essence is like that of dreams", or "We humans are woven from the same ingredients as dreams".

Both translations mean the same thing, but I can't help but like the second one.

I think it's probably because I'm a hypocrite, always trying to revise and embellish my life with more beautiful words, and I don't want to face the fact that all this—my life—is just pale and illusory, and there's not much to write about.

Prospero then went on to say, "And the end of this empty life is sleep." "It's Shakespeare talking about the emptiness of life, and I think so now.

It's just that when I saw these words when I was in school, I didn't feel much emotion, I always felt that the world belonged to my young self, and the empty life and even the end, these heavy and empty things seemed to be far away from me.

When I was young, I looked at the future and saw rose-colored "dreams".

But today, six or seven years later, after experiencing all kinds of things and looking back briefly, I suddenly found that my life was not so colorful, and there was no shortage of dispensable people like me in this world.

This is a regrettable, but irrefutable fact.

I remember that despite my deterioration, I worked hard to write this novel despite the great idea of dreams, and I buried myself in writing it for months no matter how low my income was. At that time, I couldn't find the reason to stop, and I couldn't see the possibility of stopping.

It wasn't until my girlfriend left that I suddenly realized that even though my hands were on the keyboard, my heart felt empty. My body is getting worse and worse, my spirit is sluggish, I can't write things satisfactorily, and my thoughts are always floating on the three words "why". Thinking like this, my hands gradually stopped, and my mind was not on the novel, and I went to work, to the hospital, to exercise, and to study. Slowly my body began to get better, and there were more things, but my heart was always empty, like I was lost in a shopping mall when I was a child, and it seemed wrong in that direction.

I always thought that I was missing something, something that would fill my atrium and mend the wounds on my body.

So, after a rough road, I got to where I was in the first place.

I don't know how many people are still there, but anyway, I just want to say: I, Peter, are back. (To be continued.) )