Those who are close to vermilion will turn red, while those who are close to ink will turn black, and I am clearly the latter. Perhaps unintentionally, but wearing a sour face is not likable. I feel that most of the time when I am awake, it is painful and boring, and this thought naturally leads me to be in a gloomy mood every day. It is quite coincidental that the few sharp words I occasionally spit out also make people around me uncomfortable. It is indeed difficult to have fun, and most of my ways are sarcastic. This also leads to my sharp and sarcastic language. At the same time, I am also a very troublesome person. I previously spent a meaningless meeting with someone else, and then lost internet connection, so I spent the whole day complaining to him. Complaining like this made me hysterical. Later, I laughed like crazy, probably making others think I was crazy. And maybe there is something wrong with my brain. In fact, this intense emotional transition is not occasional. Although most of the time I have a poker face, there are times when I inexplicably become extremely excited, although it is also very strange. It's as if my mood has no middle ground.
I actually know that I am not suitable for socializing with people. But I have no choice. I long for the connection between people, but I am afraid of unintentionally destroying friendships. I am always too self-centered. Only by repeatedly reminding myself that I am garbage, an organic matter that no one cares about, can I temporarily abandon this idea. I know that the world does not revolve around me, but I am often troubled by various external reasons. I know "Don't compare," but my brain can't stop. It can't stop. Why does a brain that is so incompetent, lazy, and willingly decadent have to be paired with a brain that is willing to compare, envy, and be jealous? It must be because it's so much fun. It has a dark humor flavor. I know that immersing myself in sadness will not bring positive effects, but I still can't stop the daily cycle of self-pity. Perhaps for someone wearing black and white filters, even a colorful world is lifeless. I can't understand the meaning of having a brain, I can't understand the meaning of being born, I can't understand what purpose my existence serves besides not disappointing people, and I can't understand what positive impact my existence can bring to others. But I don't have the courage to die, and death is also a losing deal. Perhaps it is a cowardly act, perhaps.
Sometimes I want to shed a few tears to relieve myself. But no matter how much I want to cry, I don't feel like crying. It's as if I have forgotten how to cry. Maybe it's because I already have a high threshold. I dislike thinking, but I can't stop creating pressure and mental garbage for myself. Whenever I have free time, I think about meaningless things. Unless I let information overwhelm me. I continue to breathe, continue to consume, continue to suck blood, just because there is still a possibility of a turning point. But when and if it will happen, I don't know. I also have hobbies, I also have things I want to do, but there haven't been many attempts to pursue them. After getting rid of errands, I hope it will be like this. Suddenly, the taste of sourness and sweetness when eating pineapple comes to mind. But who can I live up to?