last time I cried until the ending song of a movie was finished, it was eleven years ago. Looking back, everything seemed to be fine at that time. So where did it go wrong? From which point in time, which choice, which failure? Since when my life has slipped uncontrollably astray, leading to a mess of today? How did I lose my original hand? Good card? How did I close the window to hope with my own hands? How did I disappoint my relatives step by step and let my friends leave? I can feel that many parts of me have already left me, but when did this happen?
When I thought about this, I fell into a self-awareness excess again. I found that no one wanted to listen when I wanted to talk about my pain. Everyone was talking about themselves. Because, yes, everyone has their own worries and their own troubles. You think your thinking is interesting, but you are probably the only one who thinks so.
If I could attribute my failure to the wrong person I knew and what I did wrong, would I feel better? I have no idea. I look at the people around me, the people I have known, and think they are all better than me.
At the end of everything, I remembered that when I was six years old, I had a poem and was warmly praised by my mother. At that time, we all felt that my future was particularly bright and my future was particularly promising.
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