Shackles of Desire

"Hello, I want to ask about your origins as usual." I sit calmly, ready to accept your judgment. "What's your age?" "The update date of Chapter 1, minus eighteen years, is my date of birth." You picked up the water glass and wet my face with the water in it, trying to wake me up. I tightened my red coat. You were gentle and didn't take it off. "Why did you write this book?" "The title of the book is a bit random, and I'm a bit of a germaphobe, so in the end I have to write it so that the content of the article matches the title -" "Boom!" You slapped the table and calmed me down. For no apparent reason, a southeasterly wind blew, symbolizing failure. I know it was me who failed. Because that's my last name. "What is your worldview?" I pretended to be very cold, trying to hide the fact that I didn't know what to write in this paragraph just now. "It's very grand and abstract. But maybe it's because of my limited ability to express myself that you might think my world view is a little... Confusing?" It was a correct answer to a question. When I think about it, the first two questions were answered quite casually. So I regretted it. For the first question, you wrote something on paper after listening to my answer; so I'm only going to change the answer for the second question. "If I said that I vomited because of eating books, and after writing the book, I found that I had to bite the bullet and continue writing... Would you believe it?"