Every day I am confused about why I am living in misery, and the people around me are not, and this confusion and contrast makes me more painful.
The days before Van Gogh's death in this film made me see the shadow of my own pain. It turned out that he also lived like this. There is also Gu Cheng, this kind of sensitivity is inherently irresistible, but since he can only bear this kind of pain, don't waste it. They resorted to the pain in the pen, or gushed into the stars, or composes small poems with aura. But the more you live in your own world, the more unsolvable the real problems are, so sooner or later, the chord of this nerve will break. And those who have little talent but vanish in the crowd, I am afraid that they are slowly compromising with reality, but it is not a choice.
So don't be confused about this pain anymore, because it's a must. Van Gogh is like this, not to mention people like me. I just don't know if my pain can be turned into wealth.
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