This is a rat literature,
I'm just a rat with no hope or future.
The suffocating love enveloped me, and the feeling of fatigue never seemed to disappear. I thought about the meaning of life and the existence of the world.
Drawing meaningless conclusions.
If it doesn't make sense, should we continue? Why continue?
"You just read too many books, think about this thing, and think about this kind of problem every day."
"You just don't have a goal. You should set a goal and work hard to achieve it."
"People who really want to die would not ask this kind of question."
...
Or,
A bunch of messages are sent, whether they have been read or not, it is unknown, and there is no reply anyway.
Life is so lonely.
No one likes a negative friend, so you have to learn to control yourself. Everyone is tired of internalizing the so-called sadness and pain, and they are too lazy to listen to you talking about your philosophy of life.
As for communicating with parents, it will only lead to incomprehension and a new round of ideological education. This bad idea must be driven away.
Shushu, I am busy living and dying right now.
Give birth, and don't want to give birth;
Die, but cannot die.
Like a bug, the broken computer is flickering, perhaps sending a distress signal.
It's time to see a psychiatrist
Intention: What you can see is nothing but emptiness