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Chapter 137 Children of the universe

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    ?

    Be gentle with yourself.  You are nothing but a child of the universe, no different from a plant or a star.

    Max Ellman, "All We Need".

    I want a little too much, and I have worked tirelessly to go all out.

    Until a few years ago, I did countless examinations because of repeated stomach pains, and finally sat in front of the doctor with a thick examination report. I was really a little embarrassed.  All the results are normal, it seems that I pretended?  Or lied?

    At that time, the doctor read the report patiently and said with a smile, this is good news, at least your body is healthy.  However, he pointed to his head, here, you put too much stuff in there.

    I was a little anxious because my stomach hurts really, really hurts.  I don't think purely psychological pressure can bring such a direct and strong reaction.

    I didn't think about anything, and I didn't feel pressured.  I explained this to the doctor at the time.

    The doctor kept the smile just now. Maybe you don't feel it, but your body will know that it is its real reaction.

    You need to speak out, the emotions trapped in your body, if there is no suitable person around, you can come to me.  He said.

    I didn't listen to what the doctor said because it didn't fit my perception.  I stubbornly believe that my emotions or inner pressure will definitely be noticed by myself.  I don't need to tell anyone.

    So years after that, I was still plagued by stomach pains.  After that, it wasn't just a stomachache, but more problems appeared in the body.

    It was inevitable, but I didn't realize it until much later.

    It was also a long time later that I realized that the so-called goal I was pursuing was probably to achieve the goal and to be happy after it was achieved.

    What I have overlooked is that happiness is only a part of pain.

    I went to the flower market today and bought a pot of fir trees.

    In the East of the United States, Christmas trees are usually bought around Thanksgiving. After New Year¡¯s Day, a very small number of people will plant the trees in the yard, and most of them will directly throw the trees on the street at the door.

    There are trucks in the town to collect them all, and send them to a special place to make them into sawdust for recycling.  Many are free to pick up in bags that can be laid out as outdoor landscaping.

    However, there is no such recycling process here, and the trees are cut down and buried directly in flower pots for sale.  At most one or two months, the tree will slowly die.  Without roots, even if planted in the soil, it is impossible to live again.

    After walking around the flower market several times, I saw a very beautiful Nuobeisong tree in a corner flower shop, squatting there and smelling the thick rosin, undecided.

    The boss came over and said that the tree earned money by hand.

    She pointed out to me that the tree was made up of scattered branches and leaves.  In the middle is a sponge, and the branches and leaves that were originally to be discarded are interlaced and inserted into the sponge, and fixed inside with ropes, making it look like a tree.

    If she didn't say it, I really didn't see it.  So he didn't hesitate any longer and took it home.  By the way, I bought a pine branch candlestick and a garland, and in the corner with the boss's daughter, I decorated it with beautiful pine cones, Christmas reds, shiny decorative balls, and wooden branches.

    The house is warm, but in one afternoon, rosin has filled every corner.  The cat should like the smell very much, and has been curled up under the tree to sleep.  When I wake up, I seldom leave, as if guarding something beloved.

    Those branches and leaves are still very fresh, and it is said that they were transported across the ocean from North America.  Once growing in a certain dense alpine forest, they could have lived for a long time, much longer than mine.

    It should be very painful when it is cut down and overturned.  When it fell off the tree trunk, there was probably no need for despair.  It was picked up later, and together with other branches and leaves that were accidentally knocked off and broken, they were inserted on the sponge, and became a tree again, although it had already changed beyond recognition.

    It is impossible to continue to speculate, and for them, this kind of speculation has no meaning at all.

    ? A life that should have disappeared has more time to live, whether it is more joy or more pain.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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