Seven times I despised my soul, which pretended to be humble when it could be aggressive. It fills the void with love, and between difficulty and ease, it chooses easy. It makes mistakes, but comforts itself with the knowledge that others will make mistakes too. It is free and weak, but regards it as the tenacity of life. It despises an ugly face, but it doesn't know that it is one of its own masks. It stands sideways in the sludge of life, unwilling but timid. But no matter what happens in your life, please don't delete it