I just want to write something

i just want to write something

Maybe at the moment of twenty-four years old, in fact, he will be twenty-five soon, but he just wants to hold on to the tail of twenty-four and not let go, as if at twenty-five, it is really the juncture of facing adulthood. Having said that, it is indeed a bit pretentious to think about the price of writing and growing up at the juncture of twenty-four years old.

But I haven't written in a long time, and I haven't thought about a story in a long time. My current life is as boring as changing my left hand for my right hand, rigid, unchanging, and boring. The days slipped away quietly in short videos. Always anxious for no reason, unable to relax, always afraid of not being able to get in the car, always unable to get on and off, somehow feeling that my life is being consumed a little bit, I began to rely on external forces, and began to believe in various supplements.

I always want to write something, but I feel that it is futile for an unfree soul to write anything.

I want the tranquility of sitting under a tree and reading a book, but I am afraid of the bugs under the tree.

It's been the third year of living in a foreign land, and I haven't found meaning, only restlessness and uneasiness.

But my life is not so sad. The advantage of being in a foreign land is that I have become more frank with myself and learned to do many things boldly. Learned to get used to things you are not used to. Get used to accepting what you can't do, and finding ways to do it. I'm always groping around the edge step by step, praying that it will be okay, it doesn't matter if it does.

Gone are the days of lying in bed as a teenager dreaming about your future and entertaining yourself in the dark. Adults in the dark have no imagination, only fear of tomorrow, and planning how to get past it. Pray that youth will pass quickly, and then you can retire, and when you retire, pray again that you can be young again.

But why do people live like this? What's the point of living like this?

The life of a successful urbanite will not be a mess, his life will be orderly, so organized that he can't breathe, step by step until his eyes go dark.

I don't know what kind of life I expect, maybe it's a forever young mentality, never need to worry, don't need to plan, take precautions, and take the initiative to choose. I like endless imagination and infinite possibilities, but I don't like to realize any of them.

I love writing, but it's been a long time since I've written a story.