I haven't written anything about my reality for a long time.

After reading Jiang Chen's words in every six months of the last two years, we can see the fantasy and dream of the Three Kingdoms, the short poems of parting, the long essays that have been scattered, the summary of the academic year of work, and the so-called poems written for the boring life

After pondering for a long time, I just found that I was a donkey turned from a man. I thought I had killed all my breath. But looking back, I still had human passions, greed, timidity, fear, and lust. At the same time, I always gave myself hope, looked up to hope, gave myself the courage to leave without regret, looked at everything ahead, and moved forward bravely. Drunken and singing is just the salvation of the soul, and the starry night is just a lonely loss. I don't know whether my future is foreseeable or where my path is. I walk slowly alone, helpless, but helpless.

Looking at the calendar, I often write but never write. Watching the sunset, I stood alone and watched the shadow grow and disappear. Silence is deep in the mountains, but the soul is gradually restless. I always want to help the world, but I find the oil price rises. Every time I play back my memory, I find everything seems pale and powerless. The days that used to be deep in the mountains of Jiang Chen came to me, but they had stopped and gradually disappeared.

Life has become debris in its own randomness and stupidity. In this debris, every drop you encounter will be the deepest feeling you can remember.

In June, what impressed me most was all the scenery photos of myself. If you place your love on mountains and rivers, you should raise a glass of strong wine. I want to fish and forget myself, let my soul approach to tranquility, but find myself used to noise. People wander in different choices and paths, but it is undeniable that when the path is different, they yearn for what they once had.

I want to write my own reality and life one by one. But after pondering for a long time, I found that my dream no longer had the capacity to carry reality. Because of fear, because of cowardice, because of the integration with reality, I gradually chose to silence everything and cut everything apart from reality. It is undeniable that we will be dyed consistent in the differences and similarities, in the individuality and commonness. I tried to change, but my mind and consciousness gradually compromised. Such compromise has torn me apart from myself. Just like the story I am writing, there is no right or wrong. There is only a torn soul.

The server of Green Leaf Survival opened again. I went in alone, but gradually found that I had lost interest in the game. In the game of My World, from the yearning and exploration of the new world to the tomb I have built for myself underground, in the final analysis, it is just my own wandering in it, and I feel the loneliness of the whole world. I have wanted to write a story for myself countless times, but every time I write, the protagonist in the story has the same loneliness from the soul as me. When we have seen each other enough, we can't write any more.

Look at the work. In fact, everything can be solved with a flick of the finger. But it lies in such self-confidence that I can't do anything to face it. I can turn into a thousand troops, but when the wind blows away, I'm just a person, accompanied by the sunset and stars.

I stood in the night sky, feeling the cold wind in the mountains. I closed my eyes and chose to forget and abandon all the fragments in the memory. Although I never give up clinging to the depths of the stars, I always have to move forward. Although there is only one person's soul in the world, the other side also hopes to have soul consolation.