The news is full of unsolved serial murders, the anchor's voice is mechanical and stiff, and the images are filled with a disgusting amount of mosaics.

I must admit that the artistry of the murderer's elaborate work has been completely destroyed by the numbing hosts and the unaesthetic mosaics, and the news has done nothing but to cause panic among the citizens and expose the incompetence of the police.

I've always believed that life needs a sense of ritual, and there are many things in this world that can be turned into art if you put your mind to it, including killing.

Killing isn't all bloody and violent, on the contrary, it should be wonderful. No one can decide what kind of appearance a person will come into this world, but what form she will leave can be completely arranged and designed. It was such an uplifting and exciting thing that it deserved and deserved to be taken seriously, but everyone was afraid and scared to mention it, and they didn't even want to bring it up.

I have to admit that in fantasizing about taking away someone's life and mutilating their corpses, I felt an unprecedented power in my heart, it was so fresh and lively, it gave me so much vitality that I even began to gradually become obsessed with it, but I swear that I never actually killed someone because of this addiction.

I think you must be able to understand what I am going through and what I think, it's like one day you are walking down the street and you meet the person you are destined to do, and you want to see her a few more times, so you turn around and follow her until you come to her house or where she works, and she disappears into your eyes, and you feel a sense of emptiness and regret in your heart, and you want to see her a few more times.

It's just a simple thought, a thought that all people have. But for those of us who like to put ideas into action, some of us may misunderstand what we mean.

I mean, when someone sees you for a few days and you don't talk to her, they can't help but get scared and panic, as if you're a scary monster or a dangerous bioweapon, even though you haven't done anything yet, or just because you don't have the courage to speak.

We're obviously innocent, aren't we? Anyone who is misunderstood and wronged will want to defend themselves, especially if the other person is still the girl you love, so when you, like me, try to explain to her what is going on, but she goes crazy and wants to run away, and even takes out the contents of her bag to hurt you and pretends to protect herself, you will feel like you are really hurt.

I'm not one to get angry easily, I just want to calm her down, at least quietly. I did, and then I found out that I preferred her when she was quiet, and unfortunately she would wake up sooner or later.

I really don't want to see her wake up, like a mad dog that has lost its mind and only knows how to bark and bite, can you imagine that terrible scene? So sometimes harm exists not to satisfy desires, but to suppress desires......

…… Sorry, I seem to have digressed for a bit of a long time, and having said all that, I just hope you understand me better, and my inner thoughts.

If you see this and want to read on, I think you are a very kind person who is willing to understand and help others, so I would like to tell you about an incident that I have recently encountered that has caused me a lot of trouble and panic.

I hope you don't think it's funny, I seem to have been taken in lately, and she's going crazy for me - I don't really know the gender of the person, but I wish it was a woman, so I call her the romantic mystery man.

Yes, that's what bothered me a lot, there was a mysterious person who pursued me for three months, but I didn't know who she was or what she wanted to do. She didn't do anything else except put a fresh bright red rose in front of my door every day.

I knew she was pursuing me and I used to try to contact her but failed every time and didn't get any response.

I thought if she came straight up to me one day and said, "I'm very interested in you, would you like me to get to know you?" "I'm sure I won't say no, who would say no to such a lovely and devout person?

I've even maliciously speculated that this may be him, a timid and inferior homosexual man, who is expressing his unspeakable love in this way. Although this thought gave me goosebumps, I would rather he do something right now to break this awkward and bizarre situation.

But that's all I have to do with her, and a mysterious suitor isn't enough to disrupt the rhythm of my life. Except for the rose that appeared in front of the door, she was as if she didn't exist in my life.

Soon, I found the woman I loved so much on the street again. With her wavy tawny hair, short skirt and stockings, and slender heels, her appearance, figure, and aura change every time I see her, but her soul never changes, and her preferences, her interests, are deeply seared in my mind—I love her soul dearly. Even if she never loved me, didn't even remember me.

Perhaps it was my sincerity that touched that kind and beautiful soul, and she came up to me uncharacteristically and smiled at me.

"Would you like to treat me to a drink?" She asked me with a smile, her eyes full of slyness, but not the look I hated, the first time she had spoken to me so kindly.

I tried hard to be as relaxed and friendly as possible, but fluffy courage like foam wasn't something that could be held up in an instant.

My throat and vocal cords were dry and tight from the excitement, and I couldn't speak properly with my lips rubbing my lips so hard that I guess my expression must be extra stiff and hideous now, because I tried to smile but felt messed up.

I was so nervous that the more I tried to behave better, the worse it did. I pleaded in my heart, "I want to! I miss it so much! Please, don't go, don't turn around, give me a little more time! Say that damn mouth, say it! "I pray that she will read my heart through my eyes.

"Relax, you look like you've met a terrorist with a knife to your neck and asking you to tell a joke." The woman patted me on the shoulder, and she relieved the awkward atmosphere in a witty and clever way.

She said to me, "If I scare you and I apologize for my presumptuousness, will you let me treat you to a drink?" Nod if you want. "There was a sparkle in her eyes, and I loved her to death.

I hated to drop my head off my neck. God knows how joyful my heart revels.