If you want to think this is a novel, it is a novel; if you want to think this is a diary, it is a diary...
Writing style: slow heat, frigidity, no climax, the pain of a dull knife cutting flesh...
Maybe there is a kind of hopeless inspiration. I hope people who can resonate with it will read it carefully and welcome exchanges.
"There is always a distant feeling when I mention that memory, because it has almost nothing in common with my present. But I have no choice but to write it down. I don't know why. Maybe, I will understand it one day in the future."
[The following words are my conclusion to junior high school life before I officially start high school life. I have the habit of keeping a diary to sort out my thoughts. I want to analyze my inexplicable emotions, and then summarize my experiences and lessons. It is like a collection of wrong questions. I will never allow myself to make the same mistake twice. But what do I want to understand now? I still don't know why I wrote these things down.