It has been half a month since I was born.
Maybe it's tomorrow before I die.
A year ago, I had a flash of inspiration.
For this half-cupful of water in my mind, I was forced to dig a hole to store it.
Whenever I climbed into bed timidly at six o'clock in the morning, I couldn't help but shake my head and listen to the sound of running water inside.
Occasionally I also think deeply, do I have to find fault for myself? Is it so delicious if you eat it without bitterness?
After a year of digging holes, the light in my memory has changed from white moonlight to white rice grains, and from cinnabar moles to mosquito blood.
Although white rice grains are common, they are indispensable. Although mosquitoes are annoying, they are my blood.
Just when I was thinking about not considering the advice of my seniors, I decided to do it myself.
In my shallow pool, a few fish were spitting bubbles and wagging their tails, and some even fed me? I was healed again by this cute, beautiful, and warm little creature.
Otherwise, keep it up?
I thought so.
Before my death sentence came down, I decided to live a happy life with a few small fishes.
In order to keep my happiness traceable, looking at the earth that had just moved a few layers of soil and still digging three shallow pits, I decided to take out a loan to buy an excavator and dig a fourth pit.
Ah, you want to ask me what on earth do I do?
I'm just an ordinary newcomer to Jinjiang City. As the name suggests, this is my diary of a psychopath.
Demining: This is the diary of a mediocre novice author without any profound meaning.
Intention: There is frustration and love in life
