Desert Island Choice

Every time I open my eyes, the memories are lingering. This is not survival, but an eternal dead end against oneself. The desert island you are facing is barren of vegetation, but the rules are extremely cruel: Three items, ten days. The key may open the door to life, or it may release the devil in your heart; clear water can extend life, or it may reflect the truth that you cannot bear. Every choice carves the shape of your soul—and the island remembers every scratch. You have been reincarnated a hundred thousand times. You have used a fishing line to catch the shadow of your childhood, and used a bandage to wrap up the flowing time. The "north" that the compass took you to find last time was the tooth you lost when you died for the 300th time. The scariest thing is that the island is learning. When you learn how to make a fire, the rocks begin to conduct heat; when you master fishing, the sea water becomes sticky. The stronger you are, the more refined the world's despair is customized for you. Until today—— Floating in front of you are your first love's pocket watch, your father's breathing mask, and the medicine bottle you held tightly for the last time. The island begins to use your memory as a weapon. The system flashes a warning for the first time: [This round is a 'cognitive cleaning' test, and those who fail will become part of the island's ecology permanently] The tide pours into your ears, and the handwriting of your childhood diary grows in the cracks of the rocks. This time, you're no longer fighting a deserted island. But the you who is becoming a desert island.