Whether it is my sorrow or my joy, I hope they will come like heavy rain. I hate the little and stingy gifts. You must love me like the sky loves the earth, and pour out to me like the sky pours to the earth.
Although I am about to die and I am about to destruction, I must wear a blood-red cloak and walk towards destruction brilliantly. Even if I become mud after destruction, I am willing.
At this moment, it seems like there are hundreds of thousands of maggots sucking my blood in my blood vessels, wriggling in my bone marrow. I am angry and painful, but helpless. I howled, in pain, rolling all over the ground. I think I'm going to die. My life is full of failure, regret, regret, and pain. It's really a waste of time.
When I staggered and struggled to climb the ladder to heaven, I had a dream. In the dream, I was a king, I was decisive in my life, but I was cruel and unruly. I was brave and tenacious, but I was cowardly and hypocritical, and I enjoyed all my glory and wealth, and I had nothing. In the last time of my life, I was radiant and disheveled, I was caring for the rest of my life, and I was lonely and sad.
If there is a next life, I will never be a human being. I don’t need to think. I don’t need such a long life. I just hope that I can become a moth, a moth flying towards the scorching flame.
I must be crushed to pieces, and I must be tragic heroes. For myself and for life, I must use blood and life to commemorate my life. I will never think about the meaning of this, and I will never think about whether it is worth it, and I do not need to think about the profoundness of nothingness.
Those sad and painful fallen things have exhausted my heart and blood. These pills that are toxic in my stomach were swallowed by me, causing my heart and lungs to ulcerate and make it difficult to breathe.
Those pretending, hypocritical, dirty, and greasy faces... I hate all this. I deeply feel sad for myself. You can't even enjoy the primitive and barbaric life. How sad you are.
This meaningless and meaningless profoundness makes many men in the world feel as if they are dead? I believe that everything will turn into mud, so why should I suffer painfully and endure this boring and meaningless thing?
It is better to be a moth, just fly and go towards the light, either I burn my body with a fire or I die with exhaustion. I want to experience that burst, shattered, unhesitated, instinctive, primitive life.
I will give back to you with the sacred, bravest, and greatest feat in the world, and I will give everything I have without thinking.
I want to dedicate all this hard, violent, brilliant to the earth, the sky, the dew, the air, the ants, the poisonous snakes...
