Beginning called repressed life
Life itself is not derived from the expectations of a better future life, perhaps life itself has some limitations and is not perfect, but people continue to bear called repressed time, then called depressive illness and constant metamorphosis life begins.In this life than breathing the pain can not be said of suffocation, and ordinary and became hysterical for no reason. When I face a new life, especially in the work of longing and expectation had envisioned when I suddenly felt something I think is not so good, then I imagine that is what they are like, my capacity is not possible so I have a hope of it..In retrospect, this is a recall, let some fragments may have a memory of a sudden I feel that this fragment has been overwhelmed.This repression have had a few years ago, when a lost, lost their loved ones and originally thought it was something irresistible.Now, it is there is this feeling again when hit, I suddenly found the very beginning is so similar, also lost loved ones, but also so suddenly, there is no ending language.After repeating this sense is infinite blank, no memories, never even thought of before in the memory of this period of self is alive or dead.Now the self, but also like to have one kind of thinking is called interest stuck in another unknown prison, remember that it is a prison rather than a castle with a tower, because I am not a prince, so I have to mention a castle. Breathe, I began to feel pain.Disgust, such as extreme dissatisfaction with life.Bear, I do not know when a pole.Patience is waiting for the outbreak of the day. Return, it is a confession of the heart.I do not expect live a life like a prisoner in a jail in this, even if the exchange is regarded as equivalent value.My heart like a blood, can be ejected at any time.If you really spray out, is not it also can bring out the soul, I do not know, but I hope the soul is not always a quiet ghost, even crying in the wind, but also a kind of sad strong tone.Lost, ever used this word, just will not get lost in the repressed self in, as when she was still not himself, the kind of life there a thing called happiness, I do not know.I like to boast and not an expansion of their own people, I might just want quiet.I like a daze looking at my fish and my flowers, I like chess, like the old man looked like a newspaper. Give up everything to be free.This is my uncle had said, but beloved uncle Where are you now, what is your paradise of freedom, what kind of environment can color your soul to appease it.Do not know, at least I like this.unknown.