I want to end this, so today

Maeve 2022-04-22 07:01:41

I want to end this, so today.

The sun came out again, there was no snow yesterday, and the swing in front of the door was the same as yesterday, but a little older than yesterday. Ah~ Another ordinary day. Breakfast, packing up, driving to school, as usual. Turn on the radio and the Bible always calms me down. Arrived at school and started the day's work. If I can drive home today, it must be another day of eating, drinking, sleeping, doing nothing, otherwise, hasn't the past 76 years been like this? It's boring, sad and boring, and it starts again and again.

You say, people like me, sensitive, contradictory, introverted, hard-working and knowledgeable, have never reached the peak of life. At this time, I was holding a mop and shook my head: How could I have reached the peak of life? What is the definition of the pinnacle of life? Why not define it? (what about him)

Then, there will always be a woman in love with me, right? There must be a woman who falls in love with me. Although I am slow and passive towards women, I can always hit me with a single blow before I suffocate my internal injuries (of course, hum) They are all the same as the goddess Lucy, all surnamed L (who hasn't been 14 years old yet, sorry). She must be my soul mate, otherwise she really has nothing to say. Those who are not literate will irritate my eyes when they are dull together. My soul mate can be very sad, can hide from me, can oppose my views, can rely on inertia to be with me, these are not a problem, because I can control her, the rhythm is in my hands, and she has been in her whole life In my hands (my damn charm).

Eeeeeee~ That girl on the stage just now was looking at me, right? Ok? ! No, I'm being self-motivated again (in a sense, yes), I'm used to magnifying other people's gazes on me, (of course it will automatically block some naive and boring gazes), I hope to get gazes. Forget it, continue mopping the floor. After dragging this piece, today is almost the end. huh~

Wow~ it's snowing outside!

It was getting dark, the students were gone, and the work was done for the day. After a while, the snow had accumulated so much that I suddenly wanted to eat Oreo Brr from the ice cream shop in Tulsi Town. You say, if I focused on physics when I was young, I should have achieved something by now. Why are you still doing such a job in this school now, in fact, physicists and cleaners are no different, right? Just a passer-by of time with a similar body. I don't even know what I'm talking about.

I haven't done anything bad, and the awkward family affection will not hinder my filial piety and sincerity; I want to end all this, but my heart is still full of yearning for youth, oh~youth, I can't help but be enviable and admirable ;

So what if I know so much knowledge, it is not classified, labeled, and influenced; what if I understand so much truth, I still live in a dull and outdated time, watching them pass through my fingertips, unable to do anything. What have I done all these years, it seems that there is nothing, just a little bit older than before, just a little bit older.

It was very quiet in the snow, and the big snowflakes squeezed each other's bodies, layer by layer, firmly laying on my car window. How long will it take for hypothermia to appear, it's really cold, cold~ But this way of dying is not bad. At this point, should I strike a match like a little match girl? come on. The first match, I was a cheerful and unrestrained child, growing up happily in farms and schools. The second match, Lucy and I met in college and fell in love with each other, um, the couple~, and then got a Nobel or something by the way, that is, let the whole world know the fact that I am very low-key, hehe. the third match,

Eh

eh eh

How did the match turn into a fire? !

Ah, it's so warm~ Actually, being a director is not bad, anyway, there is an outlet for emotional catharsis~

This feeling is really ~ good ~ ah ~

The corners of my mouth lifted up involuntarily...

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I'm Thinking of Ending Things quotes

  • Young Woman: [about his onset dementia] I'm sorry that y-you're...

    Father: That's okay. Truth is, I'm looking forward to when it gets very bad and I don't have to remember that I can't remember!

  • Young Woman: Coming home is terrible whether the dogs lick your face or not; whether you have a wife or just a wife-shaped loneliness waiting for you. Coming home is terribly lonely, so that you think of the oppressive barometric pressure back where you have just come from with fondness, because everything's worse once you're home. You think of the vermin clinging to the grass stalks, long hours on the road, roadside assistance and ice creams, and the peculiar shapes of certain clouds and silences with longing because you did not want to return. Coming home is just awful. And the home-style silences and clouds contribute to nothing but the general malaise. Clouds, such as they are, are in fact suspect, and made from a different material than those you left behind. You yourself were cut from a different cloudy cloth, returned, remaindered, ill-met by moonlight, unhappy to be back, slack in all the wrong spots, seamy suit of clothes dishrag-ratty, worn. You return home moon-landed, foreign; the Earth's gravitational pull an effort now redoubled, dragging your shoelaces loose and your shoulders etching deeper the stanza of worry on your forehead. You return home deepened, a parched well linked to tomorrow by a frail strand of... Anyway... You sigh into the onslaught of identical days. One might as well, at a time... Well... Anyway... You're back. The sun goes up and down like a tired whore, the weather immobile like a broken limb while you just keep getting older. Nothing moves but the shifting tides of salt in your body. Your vision blears. You carry your weather with you, the big blue whale, a skeletal darkness. You come back with X-ray vision. Your eyes have become a hunger. You come home with your mutant gifts to a house of bone. Everything you see now, all of it: bone.