I don't know how other people feel about novels. In short, I know that in my mind, a hundred flowers are blooming, accepting the visits of more characters. No matter whether the plot is bumpy or smooth, I unswervingly believe that they must exist in a certain time and space. I am a loyal multi-time and space theorist. Even the plots that have nothing to do with me are my multiple time and space. I watch their happiness sooner or later, and it doesn't matter what my own is like. In the world of paper, it can always be romantic.
I will only smile and place a lock on every sentient being who has a happy ending.
I want to write a novel, the characters of which contain my ideal type, or simply my multiple personalities. Those flamboyant, ready-to-come-out personalities that have dominated me at different times are certainly romance, but they are not all about romance, or it can be called a half-hearted philosophy book. I have no imagination, and what I want to write does not require much imagination, because the ending is skinny, and it is a skinny that people should have gotten used to long ago, because everything serves reality.
I still don't understand what love is. I know that I haven't lost the ability to love. It's probably because I haven't met anyone I can call someone I like. It's not because of a temporary fling, it's the feeling of being together that accounts for the most part. I also sincerely hope that no one will deliberately change me to suit me and give me the illusion of being in harmony with each other. Things that are destined, I just want to let nature take its course and go with the flow.
I don't know what kind of person I like.
I am obviously disappointed, but I am still looking forward to it.
