I don't believe I will get better. I'm afraid I will get better. It seems that bad has become a habit.
If you tell me what to do to get better, I will resist. I know what I can do to get better, but if I don't do it, I may subconsciously feel unworthy.
In this way, there is less thinking. Life will be easier this way! Spend all your time on short and happy meaningless spiritual opium, and don't think about something. Sure enough, I slept well, my mood was good, and my consciousness was numb. However, this seems to be a mirage. Once the opium is gone, it becomes anxious and helpless again. Take another sip. Slowly, a vicious circle becomes more and more difficult to adjust or change.
It's been a week this year, and the days have passed day by day, which seems to be no different from before. When writing the date, I always used to start with the year of 20 1*, feeling that I was still living yesterday. I don't know how these years have passed, and the days seem to have been thrown into the dream of the Milky Way. Time is like an accelerator, and I am caught off guard by the rapid running. A day is no different from a year. It hasn't changed in ten or eight years.
Is this the tomorrow I dreamed of when I was a child? It seems different. Life is like a flower, it fades before it opens. Isn't the mission of a flower to bloom? It's sad that there are no blooming flowers.
A fireworks show at the beginning of the year made the dull and dry days shine. I hope there are some different stories in the new year.