Looking back on the days I have experienced, everything I wanted to preserve, like sand in my hands, the more I yearned for it, the further it drifted away. Sand should not be clenched with a fist, but the behavior driven by urgent pursuit is uncontrollable. The things I did in a daze brought me comfort one by one. In the haze, I didn't deliberately try to retain memories, so I don't really know if the comfort comes from those things or from the later distorted beautification. Trying to simply keep the things I really want in mind, lightly, and then live as if nothing happened, but every time after a big cycle, I can hear Satan laughing loudly.
The food residue in the newly bought keyboard, the people who care about me once again said that I can't handle it anymore, and my emotions that have been bottoming out for weeks without any fluctuations. It's time to celebrate, celebrate that I still have this beloved keyboard, celebrate that she is willing to say it out loud, celebrate that I choose to express myself instead of sinking.
Then suddenly a turning point came, first I felt that my painless groaning, the pretentious and sinking appearance was too ugly. Then when I was reading, I was unexpectedly informed of a possibility of my problem, that is, the desire is actually because I don't have it, so once there is a strong desire, it means that I don't have that thing. So perhaps the truth is not about the more you desire, the further away it gets, but because you don't have it, you desire it. On the road of desire, I have a deeper awareness that I don't have it. After appreciating some aesthetics, now I feel like I'm injected with chicken blood, feeling eager to do something, to give something. Then my mood becomes joyful, I have appetite again, and I start to fantasize about being able to produce something steadily in the long term.
Writing to this point, seeing my emotional ups and downs, I feel like I'm really sick. I haven't taken medication for a long time. The feeling of being affected by medication is not pleasant, but the reason I didn't take it in the end was that the medication suddenly became ineffective. The doctor just gently told me to persist in taking the medication, but never mentioned the possibility after persisting. I increasingly feel that these medications are really more experienced and random than traditional Chinese medicine. After that, the epidemic caused the city to be locked down, and even the persistence of seeing a doctor was stopped.
The matter of taking medication has returned to the starting point, but I have no regrets at all. The feeling of medication is interesting because the good state I had for over a month due to medication allowed me to create a volume of paintings equivalent to the past two years.
It's just another repetition, just like countless times in the past. It's also a little bit forward again. Anyway, I can feel the fire in my heart, it has never been extinguished.