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about writing

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    9 I have worked tirelessly to write a lot of works.

    Feeling a bit tired.

    This tiredness comes from the panic about the future.

    I am irritable and lose sensitivity to life.  To hate a certain life, but not to fight for it.

    A sentence comes to my mind countless times every day, how good it is not to go to work today.

    The body is getting worse and worse.  Could it be because of often staying in the air-conditioned room.

    Every word I said, every word I wrote How much sweat did I bear?

    Literature is broad and profound.  The more I study, the less I understand.  The shelves are full of books.

    I need to read many, many books.  to fill in your ignorance.  Only creation can give me a sense of accomplishment.  Is this a sickness?

    When I sat there motionless and maintained the efficiency of creating 3,000 words for three hours, I watched the lights above my head imprint a beautiful halo on the ground.  The people around me walked up and down, with indifferent expressions and chaotic footsteps.

    I am in pain, and this pain comes from the structure of the story in the early days of creation.  I hate myself for being powerless.

    I have never been able to link the clues to the climax of the full text.  Trying to search in the brain, all you get is a bland storyline.  Like standing still, I can't jump out of my original state.

    I'm mad.

    There are often thoughts bordering on madness.

    See the woman bend down to pick up something that fell on the floor.  Will imagine that if time stands still and only I can move, will I help her pick up this item?

    I don't like going out.  Unless you go to work.

    I like staying at home.  Even do nothing.  Quietly in a daze, I can consume day after day.

    I have low self-esteem in my bones.  Therefore, it is often a form of humility that faces everyone.  Do not associate with unreasonable people, nor make friends with people who are not pure in heart.  You can change your personality to cater to everyone's taste, but sigh secretly when there is no one.  This is not my favorite circle, so I don't like to make any comments.  If you argue with them stubbornly, they will only sneer and listen to it as a beautiful joke.

    After writing (the most beautiful time), it seems that I have really entered a period of no inspiration.  Material not found.  Can I relax and take a serious rest.

    This is not a good thing.  I like to plan my life step by step.  Once laxity becomes a habit, will it be impossible to return to the original struggle time?

    Putting all your energy into something doesn't necessarily please everyone.  Like the good character I show to others every time.  There are always some people who make progress, and there are always some people who make use of the problem.

    Alright alright.  How did I become a morose young man full of complaints.

    The sun is so good, go out for a walk.  Wash off bad dust.  Wash away the sorrow of parting from the previous life.

    Me and writing.

    It is a friend and an enemy.  It made me grow and it made me fearful.  We fight every day.

    All right.  Wash and sleep.

    Don't talk nonsense anymore.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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