Tragedy in life will always reappear inadvertently. It will rub your heart gently, not fatal enough, but painful enough. It will be like a thorn, nailing you deep into the ground, unable to see the sun. It will stab straight down from the chest, through the heart, pierce the body and drill into the earth, strangle your throat, and you will not be able to breathe. As time goes by, this thorn will become deeper and thicker until it can no longer grow. It integrates into your body and wraps around your body. It is your outer shell and your shame. It will make you feel inferior, make you want to cry all the time, make you feel that you are ordinary, insignificant and lonely, that your existence is meaningless and even a sin, a disgusting form of existence. There are ten million Hamlets in the eyes of ten million people. Each independent individual has thousands of faces for people to refer to. If this is the case, there is no need to gain a sense of existence in others.
Intention: Ordinary