Small talk/stop breathing for a while.

The third week of entrusting the child to the mother's family, I did not write a single word for two full weeks.

Sure enough, when I'm in a calm mood, I can't write anything.

I wrote 19 days and 19 articles in a row, and then entered a two-week period of relaxation and freedom, and my mood was stable, so the words lost their connotations, and there was no thing to express, and no one to record.

I miss my kids.

I used to say that writing is as important to my metabolism as breathing, hence the title - stop breathing temporarily, stop brain functioning, drown myself in an endless stream of TV shows, novels and comics, I need to stop Thinking, I need to stop my emotions, I need to make myself a so-called "Walking Dead" before I am strangled and suffocated by missing and reluctant to give up.

I guess I let go of Matters, let go of my desire to record, unsubscribed from Appreciation Citizens, and stopped writing and relaxing on major platforms. I just want to block all my emotions under my consciousness, and let myself be quiet, Calm, in a daze.

I took the "Highly Sensitive Person Test" two days ago. Although the scores are not high, there are still 80 and 90. I have carefully thought about the meaning of many descriptions to me. I don't think I need to be lonely as I imagined, I just like It's just rebellion in the dead of night.

"Creativity has value" is a precious concept, but I can't find what I want to read, nor can I find what I want to write. Several drafts are stored in the draft box, and there is no motivation to complete them.

My guess is that my cycle is now peaking again on the uphill side.

My mind is a little confused about what to say. I think that what I want to express is already in the previous text, and the indescribable emotion is already famous.

I think of the words I like very much, from Zhuangzi's "Xiaoyaoyou. "Inner Chapter": "There is a fish in Beiming, its name is Kun. Kun is so big, I don't know how many thousands of miles it is. When it turns into a bird, its name is Peng. The back of Peng, I don't know how many thousands of miles it is; , its wings are like clouds hanging from the sky. It is a bird, and the sea will migrate to Nanming. Nanming is Tianchi.”

"Its wings are like clouds hanging from the sky", what a magnificent description.

Stop writing, I wanted to talk to myself, but unfortunately I didn't respond.