Diary Collection

The distance of sadness is telling yourself to cry but not being able to cry. Tomorrow and unexpected choices, let time save the ruined soul. Fake smiles have become a daily routine, and tears are enough for a person's night. The continued life seemed to be the same as before, but it was shattered by betrayal one reality after another. Traffic lights, high-rise buildings, psychiatrists tremble in choices. In order to live, alcohol and the night drove away the god of death that knocked on the door again and again. In the diary of drawing a sickle, there is no empathy and a way to awaken sadness, all at the tip of the pen. I just write a somewhat depressed diary to thank the world that has brought countless scars and pain to my life, and live with a smile...