我的英语当时很差,请读者见谅
The midnights are like the endgames in chess, but they are the endgames after the clock ticked 0. Everybody else may fell at ease with the endgame, or never even considered it as a separate part in the game of life (not the one with tiles and squares), but I just become tenser and tenser by the minute.
Yes, I do feel every night time as an endgame, where you would have to be extremely careful and precautious with everything, where the wrong posture of your arm or some stupid move with your legs while you’re trying to fall asleep would be a losing move, when all attempts predates would nullify and the consequence will be a very drowsy and painful morning that I know will be looming ahead.
This sort of analogy might be seen as nihilistic and childishly bad, but I felt it no matter what. Fighting through a day is harsh and dreary, even though for the last few months, or even years I am actually doing nothing that would make it the case for a normal person to call everyday like that. But well, who am I kidding, i’m a sad, depressed little piece of junk, and I’m probably given too much leeway by my parents to shitpost on the Internet everyday, and this blog site is no exception.
People told me that life is so special that you’ll probably never experience it again. But the mere fact that I’m existing and suffering, would sometimes make me wonder the meaning of ‘the rewards of life’ that you will be getting as days go by. It occurs to me that probably a majority of the population would not question themselves this question every day. The mundane and muddy social norms and the mere existance of life and struggles itself made us to drag us along this sort of race with ourselves, releasing rage and anger in quite useless fashion.
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