I always feel that I need to write something, I always feel that I have to leave some words in my life, which will be boring or embarrassing, just like the notebook in the math class with my head propped on my hand while I was half asleep and murmuring poems, the unfinished novel, the bookshelf piled high, and the water droplets from the soda popping up from time to time. Intertwined with the illusion of self-conversation and drowsiness, the sudden mood is so uncomfortable, the bubbles are bubbling up in the heart, the scenery is becoming more and more blurred, the pretense of respectability, the far-fetched topic, the heightened interest that is difficult to bring up, the year that cannot be remembered, the cold wind that cuts my mouth, and the legs that hurt now.
Ah—ah/ah————
my old dream
Intention: imagination