I looked at these rows of residential buildings and suddenly felt suffocated. They were not comfortable homes, but cages and restraints. We are all pitiful caged birds, with our wings clipped. Why do these buildings look so ugly and ordinary? The appearance here is really terrible. It can be used to reminisce about the past, but that's the worst part. It can only be used to reminisce about the past, and it's a mess.
Someone is bouncing around in my mind, the clown's lines keep echoing in my head. Now he is sitting on the chair on the stage of the studio, tilting his head and waving the gun, telling me, "The happiness and joy of the masses are defined by the elite. You know that those are all deceptive lies. Why do you follow them? Why don't we burn this city to ashes together?" Yes, the clown has become Johnny Silverhand.
But they are all fictional characters. Happiness and joy cannot be explained in just a few words. It takes at least five to ten times the amount. This is also the experience of setting the number of particles in the particle swarm algorithm. We need to set five to ten times the number of particles in the original problem dimension, and then continuously experiment and adjust the parameters to obtain a fairly excellent but not necessarily optimal solution if we are lucky. But instead of doing that, why don't I directly use the binary search method to find the geometric center of the solution, and choose to go to the better side each time? This way is faster, and it's all gambling anyway, there is no difference.
I shook my head and vetoed the feasibility of this experiment because trucks are prohibited from passing on this road from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. Besides, I have troubles at work that I need to solve. After I finish wandering around, I must return to my life full of despair and problems. Otherwise, it would mean that I have lost my dignity and become the loser I hate the most. But then I thought, I am already here. I escaped from the troubles I faced because I couldn't bear them. I temporarily left the enclosed space that felt like hell. So, I have already lost. What reason do I have to go back? To play in the loser's bracket?
I opened my umbrella and walked around the wetland park for a while, jumping over a black puddle. I looked around and felt disappointed, questioning why I came here. The sound of car wheels rolling on the asphalt road passed by my ears. I saw the faint double yellow lines in the middle of the road. Why don't I just walk to the middle of the road when the traffic lights are on and lie down on the double yellow lines, waiting for two trucks to pass by each other at the same speed, crushing my body into two halves? This way, I can experiment to see if I will be reborn in another world or if each half of my body will be reborn in different worlds.
But that's not possible. It's just a dream of mine. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.
That's when I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the previous me, resurrects from death. I am the decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self, and after the transformation, I become the producer. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After the transformation, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So, I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all of the above, but the answer can only be one. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer".
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, my eyes shifting between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with that of others, comparing my purpose of living with that of others, comparing my happiness and joy with that of others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing to do. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up the small hill by the roadside, dirtying my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, not noticing me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me, squat in the same position, and observe all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, just like me today. And then he will meet the next primary school student, and the cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand, otherwise, I would definitely drop one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny, and this coin would be worn out and covered in dust with each death and rebirth, corresponding to every cycle of my life.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill, and then looking down from that pavilion and facing countless versions of myself on the pedestrian path. The gazes of the past selves all returned to me at this moment. They silently asked me, asked themselves, questioned the meaning of this action, and doubted whether it was just rolling stones.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. And then, on a certain evening, sitting on a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran in front of me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the story of the clown and 2077. I landed on the ground like a random floating object. I realized everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It wasn't a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life, which turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything returns to nothingness is different from the fact that everything is meaningless.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain evening, the wind blew on my face, and it ran in front of me. I stopped my aimless pursuit of meaning and lifted the desire like a stick, flying like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil that covered the earth, and rushing to the end of the universe, where I could find all the answers.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.
That's when I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the previous me, resurrects from death. I am the decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self, and after the transformation, I become the producer. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After the transformation, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So, I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all of the above, but the answer can only be one. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer".
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, my eyes shifting between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with that of others, comparing my purpose of living with that of others, comparing my happiness and joy with that of others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing to do. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up the small hill by the roadside, dirtying my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, not noticing me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me, squat in the same position, and observe all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, just like me today. And then he will meet the next primary school student, and the cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand, otherwise, I would definitely drop one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny, and this coin would be worn out and covered in dust with each death and rebirth, corresponding to every cycle of my life.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill, and then looking down from that pavilion and facing countless versions of myself on the pedestrian path. The gazes of the past selves all returned to me at this moment. They silently asked me, asked themselves, questioned the meaning of this action, and doubted whether it was just rolling stones.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. And then, on a certain evening, sitting on a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran in front of me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the story of the clown and 2077. I landed on the ground like a random floating object. I realized everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It wasn't a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life, which turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything returns to nothingness is different from the fact that everything is meaningless.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain evening, the wind blew on my face, and it ran in front of me. I stopped my aimless pursuit of meaning and lifted the desire like a stick, flying like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil that covered the earth, and rushing to the end of the universe, where I could find all the answers.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.
That's when I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the previous me, resurrects from death. I am the decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self, and after the transformation, I become the producer. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After the transformation, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So, I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all of the above, but the answer can only be one. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer".
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, my eyes shifting between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with that of others, comparing my purpose of living with that of others, comparing my happiness and joy with that of others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing to do. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up the small hill by the roadside, dirtying my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, not noticing me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me, squat in the same position, and observe all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, just like me today. And then he will meet the next primary school student, and the cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand, otherwise, I would definitely drop one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny, and this coin would be worn out and covered in dust with each death and rebirth, corresponding to every cycle of my life.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill, and then looking down from that pavilion and facing countless versions of myself on the pedestrian path. The gazes of the past selves all returned to me at this moment. They silently asked me, asked themselves, questioned the meaning of this action, and doubted whether it was just rolling stones.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. And then, on a certain evening, sitting on a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran in front of me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the story of the clown and 2077. I landed on the ground like a random floating object. I realized everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It wasn't a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life, which turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything returns to nothingness is different from the fact that everything is meaningless.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain evening, the wind blew on my face, and it ran in front of me. I stopped my aimless pursuit of meaning and lifted the desire like a stick, flying like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil that covered the earth, and rushing to the end of the universe, where I could find all the answers.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.
That's when I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the previous me, resurrects from death. I am the decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self, and after the transformation, I become the producer. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After the transformation, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So, I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all of the above, but the answer can only be one. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer".
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, my eyes shifting between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with that of others, comparing my purpose of living with that of others, comparing my happiness and joy with that of others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing to do. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up the small hill by the roadside, dirtying my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, not noticing me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me, squat in the same position, and observe all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, just like me today. And then he will meet the next primary school student, and the cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand, otherwise, I would definitely drop one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny, and this coin would be worn out and covered in dust with each death and rebirth, corresponding to every cycle of my life.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill, and then looking down from that pavilion and facing countless versions of myself on the pedestrian path. The gazes of the past selves all returned to me at this moment. They silently asked me, asked themselves, questioned the meaning of this action, and doubted whether it was just rolling stones.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. And then, on a certain evening, sitting on a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran in front of me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the story of the clown and 2077. I landed on the ground like a random floating object. I realized everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It wasn't a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life, which turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything returns to nothingness is different from the fact that everything is meaningless.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain evening, the wind blew on my face, and it ran in front of me. I stopped my aimless pursuit of meaning and lifted the desire like a stick, flying like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil that covered the earth, and rushing to the end of the universe, where I could find all the answers.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.
That's when I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the previous me, resurrects from death. I am the decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self, and after the transformation, I become the producer. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After the transformation, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So, I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all of the above, but the answer can only be one. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer".
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, my eyes shifting between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with that of others, comparing my purpose of living with that of others, comparing my happiness and joy with that of others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing to do. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up the small hill by the roadside, dirtying my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, not noticing me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me, squat in the same position, and observe all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, just like me today. And then he will meet the next primary school student, and the cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand, otherwise, I would definitely drop one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny, and this coin would be worn out and covered in dust with each death and rebirth, corresponding to every cycle of my life.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill, and then looking down from that pavilion and facing countless versions of myself on the pedestrian path. The gazes of the past selves all returned to me at this moment. They silently asked me, asked themselves, questioned the meaning of this action, and doubted whether it was just rolling stones.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. And then, on a certain evening, sitting on a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran in front of me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the story of the clown and 2077. I landed on the ground like a random floating object. I realized everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It wasn't a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life, which turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything returns to nothingness is different from the fact that everything is meaningless.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain evening, the wind blew on my face, and it ran in front of me. I stopped my aimless pursuit of meaning and lifted the desire like a stick, flying like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil that covered the earth, and rushing to the end of the universe, where I could find all the answers.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.
That's when I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the previous me, resurrects from death. I am the decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self, and after the transformation, I become the producer. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After the transformation, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So, I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all of the above, but the answer can only be one. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer".
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, my eyes shifting between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with that of others, comparing my purpose of living with that of others, comparing my happiness and joy with that of others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing to do. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up the small hill by the roadside, dirtying my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, not noticing me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me, squat in the same position, and observe all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, just like me today. And then he will meet the next primary school student, and the cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand, otherwise, I would definitely drop one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny, and this coin would be worn out and covered in dust with each death and rebirth, corresponding to every cycle of my life.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill, and then looking down from that pavilion and facing countless versions of myself on the pedestrian path. The gazes of the past selves all returned to me at this moment. They silently asked me, asked themselves, questioned the meaning of this action, and doubted whether it was just rolling stones.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. And then, on a certain evening, sitting on a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran in front of me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the story of the clown and 2077. I landed on the ground like a random floating object. I realized everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It wasn't a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life, which turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything returns to nothingness is different from the fact that everything is meaningless.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain evening, the wind blew on my face, and it ran in front of me. I stopped my aimless pursuit of meaning and lifted the desire like a stick, flying like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil that covered the earth, and rushing to the end of the universe, where I could find all the answers.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.
That's when I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the previous me, resurrects from death. I am the decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self, and after the transformation, I become the producer. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After the transformation, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So, I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all of the above, but the answer can only be one. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer".
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, my eyes shifting between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with that of others, comparing my purpose of living with that of others, comparing my happiness and joy with that of others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing to do. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up the small hill by the roadside, dirtying my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, not noticing me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me, squat in the same position, and observe all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, just like me today. And then he will meet the next primary school student, and the cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand, otherwise, I would definitely drop one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny, and this coin would be worn out and covered in dust with each death and rebirth, corresponding to every cycle of my life.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill, and then looking down from that pavilion and facing countless versions of myself on the pedestrian path. The gazes of the past selves all returned to me at this moment. They silently asked me, asked themselves, questioned the meaning of this action, and doubted whether it was just rolling stones.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. And then, on a certain evening, sitting on a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran in front of me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the story of the clown and 2077. I landed on the ground like a random floating object. I realized everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It wasn't a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life, which turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything returns to nothingness is different from the fact that everything is meaningless.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain evening, the wind blew on my face, and it ran in front of me. I stopped my aimless pursuit of meaning and lifted the desire like a stick, flying like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil that covered the earth, and rushing to the end of the universe, where I could find all the answers.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.
That's when I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the previous me, resurrects from death. I am the decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self, and after the transformation, I become the producer. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After the transformation, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So, I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all of the above, but the answer can only be one. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer".
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, my eyes shifting between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with that of others, comparing my purpose of living with that of others, comparing my happiness and joy with that of others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing to do. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up the small hill by the roadside, dirtying my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, not noticing me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me, squat in the same position, and observe all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, just like me today. And then he will meet the next primary school student, and the cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand, otherwise, I would definitely drop one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny, and this coin would be worn out and covered in dust with each death and rebirth, corresponding to every cycle of my life.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill, and then looking down from that pavilion and facing countless versions of myself on the pedestrian path. The gazes of the past selves all returned to me at this moment. They silently asked me, asked themselves, questioned the meaning of this action, and doubted whether it was just rolling stones.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. And then, on a certain evening, sitting on a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran in front of me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the story of the clown and 2077. I landed on the ground like a random floating object. I realized everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It wasn't a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life, which turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything returns to nothingness is different from the fact that everything is meaningless.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain evening, the wind blew on my face, and it ran in front of me. I stopped my aimless pursuit of meaning and lifted the desire like a stick, flying like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil that covered the earth, and rushing to the end of the universe, where I could find all the answers.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.
That's when I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the previous me, resurrects from death. I am the decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self, and after the transformation, I become the producer. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After the transformation, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So, I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all of the above, but the answer can only be one. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer".
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, my eyes shifting between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with that of others, comparing my purpose of living with that of others, comparing my happiness and joy with that of others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing to do. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up the small hill by the roadside, dirtying my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, not noticing me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me, squat in the same position, and observe all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, just like me today. And then he will meet the next primary school student, and the cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand, otherwise, I would definitely drop one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny, and this coin would be worn out and covered in dust with each death and rebirth, corresponding to every cycle of my life.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill, and then looking down from that pavilion and facing countless versions of myself on the pedestrian path. The gazes of the past selves all returned to me at this moment. They silently asked me, asked themselves, questioned the meaning of this action, and doubted whether it was just rolling stones.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. And then, on a certain evening, sitting on a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran in front of me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the story of the clown and 2077. I landed on the ground like a random floating object. I realized everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It wasn't a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life, which turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything returns to nothingness is different from the fact that everything is meaningless.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain evening, the wind blew on my face, and it ran in front of me. I stopped my aimless pursuit of meaning and lifted the desire like a stick, flying like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil that covered the earth, and rushing to the end of the universe, where I could find all the answers.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.
That's when I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the previous me, resurrects from death. I am the decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self, and after the transformation, I become the producer. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After the transformation, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So, I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all of the above, but the answer can only be one. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer".
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, my eyes shifting between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with that of others, comparing my purpose of living with that of others, comparing my happiness and joy with that of others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing to do. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up the small hill by the roadside, dirtying my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, not noticing me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me, squat in the same position, and observe all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, just like me today. And then he will meet the next primary school student, and the cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand, otherwise, I would definitely drop one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny, and this coin would be worn out and covered in dust with each death and rebirth, corresponding to every cycle of my life.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill, and then looking down from that pavilion and facing countless versions of myself on the pedestrian path. The gazes of the past selves all returned to me at this moment. They silently asked me, asked themselves, questioned the meaning of this action, and doubted whether it was just rolling stones.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. And then, on a certain evening, sitting on a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran in front of me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the story of the clown and 2077. I landed on the ground like a random floating object. I realized everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It wasn't a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life, which turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything returns to nothingness is different from the fact that everything is meaningless.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain evening, the wind blew on my face, and it ran in front of me. I stopped my aimless pursuit of meaning and lifted the desire like a stick, flying like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil that covered the earth, and rushing to the end of the universe, where I could find all the answers.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered was not the answer, but the fact that the earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a terrifying fact that wakes me up. I still have to take the subway and return to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders. Maybe I'm not suitable for this job. Maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys. But in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new hell.