For four years.
Watching the sun rise and set every day, and work like cold robot.
I often ask myself, what is the purpose of alive?
For the rice in my bowl? For my parents? Or just for alive?
hesitation, confusion, failure.
Now, DREAM is only a dream.
I run by the river, I run in the mount forest, I sit in a Buddhist temple in the suburbs.
Most of my memories are: summer's watermelon, autumn's corn.
In the middle of the night, I have insomnia,.
And I dont know why, I feel relieved.
I looked at the shrimp in the fish tank, and then I looked at the game that can't be called a 'game'.
"Do something!"
Add something new and whatever, to make it look like a game.
Finally, thank you to those who have bought this, and wish everyone can have a better life.
Maybe three years later, I'll rewrite the story again?