Chapter 257: My World Tree

I remember falling in love with words in the fourth grade, enjoying using them to construct things. Back then, I never imagined I'd become a man of letters in the future. Even now, a clear realization always lingers in my mind, telling me that I will probably never truly become one, and certainly am not one now. Yet, sometimes, emotions surge within me, urging me to pick up a pen style I haven't used in ten years and attempt to write something genuinely about what it means to be a "man of letters."

Regardless, for me, that word has always been too exalted.

I am twenty-seven this year, neither old nor young. Ordinarily, people reaching this age would have memories and reflections, some of them bright, worthy of remembrance, deserving of praise—there should be some source of pride. But whenever I face this computer screen in the dead of night, when all is silent, I am always overcome with the feeling that I have achieved nothing. In the past twenty-seven years, I haven't done anything that genuinely makes me feel proud.

Sometimes, I try to comfort myself by thinking that in these past years, I've faced difficulties my peers might not have encountered, endured pressures most of them couldn't bear. Gritting my teeth, I persevered, took on many responsibilities, supported my family, and did almost everything I believe a man should do—and I still have dreams. I feel I should have immense pride, and I've always tried to convince myself of this, hahaha. But sometimes, when I truly confront myself, dissecting and analyzing my being, I realize that all of this is false. The deep-seated feelings that might be called inferiority have long lingered in my heart. That's why I tirelessly seek symbols to prove I am far more resilient and strong than others, yet what I pursue are merely those symbols, not resilience and strength themselves. And those things that have been twisted, damaged, and darkened—I will never have the chance to recover them...

Let this piece serve as an offering to commemorate the past twenty-seven years of my life.

Samuel C. C. Ting once said something in an interview with CCTV, roughly to this effect: What children call "interest" isn't true interest. To summarize, it's more like being able to get good grades without studying. I think it's true for me too; the idea of becoming a man of letters or making a living from writing never once crossed my mind throughout my elementary, middle, and high school years.

From elementary school, I was always proficient in the sciences. My earliest ambition as a child was probably to become a mathematician. The reason was simple: my math scores were the best. With my childhood cleverness, I won about ten first-place certificates in school math competitions over five years of elementary school. With such achievements, becoming a mathematician in the future seemed only natural. Then, in middle school, I returned defeated from the national math competition, where I represented my school. It was then that I suddenly realized that other schools, with better teaching resources, generally had Olympiad math classes where teachers taught formulas and theories a grade level higher, and methods for solving advanced math problems. Our school, however, offered no such specialized tutoring. I abruptly understood that no matter how clever you are, you ultimately need resources to support you.

I quickly emerged from that shadow. We started studying physics, and in the beginning, I often scored a perfect hundred, or at least stayed above ninety-five even when careless. This naturally led me to consider becoming a physicist, and then, later, I pondered the feasibility of being a chemist…

Looking back now, that interest truly stemmed from getting good grades without studying. My Chinese language scores, however, never once gave me such a desire.

Yet, I still ended up writing like this.

From fourth grade, after I discovered the classmate in front of me was writing a long-form Saint Seiya story, I began to love writing a section of a story every day. But of course, this couldn't be called true interest; I never intended for it to be my future calling. It was merely relaxation, like chess or Go. Writing a section each day allowed me to unwind and feel happy. Although I certainly wanted to show off and receive praise in every composition class, no matter how hard I tried, those ideologically unconventional essays never succeeded. This continued throughout my entire student life. And in my own opinion, I admitted my Chinese teachers' assessments: my writing skills never quite passed muster, and I had to conclude that I had no literary talent whatsoever.

Later, I repeated in several essays: Perhaps it was resentment that sustained me on this path since then. But in truth, it wasn't. What always supported me was the sense of joy and relaxation after finishing a section. It remained something akin to Go or chess; whether anyone read it or if it received recognition, I always gained immense spiritual reward from it. As for resentment, it simply wasn't there.

Yet, it's truly a strange thing to say: during the time I spent day after day wanting to write Saint Seiya stories, the stylistic model I imitated was Lu Xun's collected works. Looking back now, I must admit that such a writing style wasn't the best way to tell a straightforward story. Nevertheless, his essays were the first and longest-imitated writing style throughout my life.

Initially, I chose his essays undoubtedly because of the widespread societal admiration at the time; students couldn't make specific distinctions. As the almost universally recognized foremost man of letters in modern China, his writing was, of course, something to study. But after reading for a long time, I naturally began to understand certain things. I started learning essay writing, satire, understanding hatred, and developing sharp moral views... To this day, apart from my grandfather, he became the most important teacher in my life.

It was also through growing up with Lu Xun's works that I understood the power a man of letters wields. Writing should be noble, like Lu Xun, like Lu Yao, like Victor Hugo, like Honoré de Balzac... Many might find this laughable now. But even today, I still believe it in my heart—perhaps this is the most ridiculous aspect of all.

So, while reading Lu Xun, I simultaneously wrote what I wanted on scrap paper or leftover composition and exercise books—back then, I didn't even have enough money to buy notebooks or scrap paper for casual writing, so when I wrote a lot, I had to reuse old materials. But those were just stories, fantasy, Saint Seiya stories—just stories. Only in composition class would I diligently write essays: about corrupt officials, about the thugs and hooligans in society who attacked people, about all sorts of negative things. I hoped my ideas and satire would earn my teacher's praise. But of course, I never received any. Some teachers said my mindset was "too dark," while more sincere ones simply told me not to write about such topics in my essays. Years later, of course, the very things I had once sagaciously observed in a supposedly harmonious society were now everywhere, no longer needing metaphor, allusion, or explanation; they existed in plain sight.

I continued writing through middle school and high school. My family's financial situation was dire; it was even difficult to scrape together tuition fees for each semester of high school. Under these circumstances, I no longer wished to study. I drew comics during my college entrance exams, leaving each test after thirty minutes. Naturally, I got my wish and entered society.

Around that time, online novels were emerging. Besides writing in notebooks, I also began to try publishing my stories online. My first work, titled *True Demon Realm*, even became VIP content on Cuiweiju when online fiction first started to commercialize. But of course, I soon realized I couldn't make money from it. I went out to work, but continued writing stories online intermittently under the pen name Gu You. After about two years of this, I decided to stop publishing online. I was working at a ceramics factory in Foshan then. I started my job, bought a second-hand computer, and acquired some literary classics like *Les Misérables*. However, I read Lu Yao's *Ordinary World* and Murakami Haruki's books the most.

After about half a year or a year, my mind was brimming with inspiration. I wanted to write an extremely literary book, meticulously refining the text in the style of Haruki Murakami. On the other hand, I wanted to try completely separating the elements of self-expression from the "YY" (wish-fulfillment/power fantasy) elements. I would use "YY" tropes unscrupulously to attract readers, while making no compromises on the self-expressive parts, trying to combine the two and find a balance. Of course, this was just a fleeting thought at the time. Since the most important thing was still perfecting the writing, I published under a pseudonym, prepared to write regardless of readers. I would just keep writing on that platform, wherever it led. But then it got a contract, and even earned a few hundred yuan each month, making this pseudonym—"Angry Banana"—impossible to abandon.

Actually, my most preferred pen name would have been "Daily Monologue." I once thought that one day, when I had truly captivating and original ideas, I would publish them under that name.

At this point, the stories I write bear no relation whatsoever to Lu Xun's past works or my own previous essays. Yet, in a way, they have made me a "semi-literary" figure who makes a living through writing—something truly unimaginable at the time.

During this period, I was active on forums.

When I was still a novice, I frequented a forum called Papa. This was on the eve of the rise of online novels, the emergence of "YY" (wish-fulfillment) fiction, and just before *I Am a Grand Mage* and *Legend of the Sky Demon God* appeared. I was likely already there. By today's standards, I'd be considered an "old-timer," though not among the very first. At the time, I didn't participate in the main stage; I was an observer, watching everything with longing. Back then, everyone's debates were sharp, logic clear, and they befriended each other through writing with proper attitudes. Throughout the subsequent development of online fiction, what impressed me most about that initial group of old-timers was the logic and coherence in their debates. Lacking such ability myself, I could only watch, and later, write my own articles.

The internet is a good thing, and a very interesting one. Online, you don't know if the person on the other end is male or female, human or dog. Everyone chooses a different attitude towards life online. For me, after a phase of joining the internet, I decided to be someone different from my usual ordinary self: I wanted to say foolish things I wouldn't normally say, do silly things I wouldn't normally do... even tease girls I wouldn't dare approach in real life.

Of course, the latter wasn't successful; as later on most girls developed a "fujoshi" (yaoi fan) tendency, I was often the one being teased.

These foolish things I said and did were: I wanted to be an upright person. I wanted to see what was right and declare it right, see what was wrong and declare it wrong, without evasion or ambiguity. This was a small resolve, but I decided to stick to it then.

After I gradually developed some logical reasoning ability, I used to enjoy debating with people or advocating for "morality" and such things on a forum. To be honest, looking back, it was quite idiotic and foolish.

At the time, I had a theory about the formation of morality: In primitive society, three primitive humans would hunt a wild boar together. They needed to cooperate to kill it. But after the kill, if other factors weren't considered, desire would make each person want to claim the boar entirely for themselves, because, if possible, everyone naturally wants to get as much as they can. However, due to various considerations—for example, they would need to hunt together again next time, they would need to cooperate—they divided the boar equally. Later, with the formation of clans and tribes, the purpose of cooperation was still the boar, and the basis of cooperation demanded fairness. Yet, as populations grew, a very special means of acquiring more benefits emerged: deception.

From that point onward, the development of society, right up to modern times, has involved only three elements: the "boar" representing self-interest, morality demanding fair distribution, and deception, which makes people mistakenly believe the distribution is fair. For example, American presidential or congressional elections are deception. When a Chinese high-speed rail accident occurred, someone came out to explain, and although it was clumsy, that too was deception. The purpose of deception is to make people believe that morality has been upheld.

Ultimately, the fundamental aim of society is the pursuit of fairness. Under the premise of pursuing self-interest, the more fairness in morality is upheld for ordinary citizens, the better their lives become. Conversely, the more prevalent deception is, the more benefits the privileged classes accrue. Morality and self-interest are inextricably linked.

Back then, I always tried to promote this, to advocate for the benefits of morality. I believed that Lei Feng was never outdated; only the methods of promoting him were. Morality, I argued, must be discussed alongside self-interest. Many spoke of society's distortions, but I believed that no matter how distorted society or an individual might be, one could always stick to one principle: seeing what is right and declaring it right, seeing what is wrong and declaring it wrong, instead of adopting a complacent or submissive attitude. This is a point we should never yield on. Because of this, I felt I was at least doing something within my power. If everyone could act this way, society would move towards a positive and transformative trend.

However... these discussions always ended in various squabbles. The only thing I gained was a constantly improving ability to satirize and mock through arguments. A few times, I angered people so much they couldn't sleep at night. I remember once debating anonymously on a Baidu Tieba forum, and the person said, "You're right, I can't sleep tonight, but I've decided to do something..." Then he banned my account. But I was still happy; I had kept him awake all night.

I suppose I might have conveyed something, or perhaps nothing at all.

Of course, I never write about these things in my books. I don't want to deliberately include them; I know it would only annoy people.

I suppose that's like an essay; I couldn't become a man of letters like Lu Xun, but at least I could have a stance. However, gradually, fewer people on forums spoke about their stances. I remember some people would explicitly state "I have no integrity" to express superiority. So later, every time I saw that person express an opinion, I would directly say, "You have no integrity." But eventually, when forums evolved further, reaching a point where merely mentioning "morality" would get you labeled as a "morality police," I no longer wanted to speak. Later, I gradually found it uninteresting, and due to other matters, I stopped expressing any views on forums.

Later, there was one thing that I kept thinking about.

Last year, in July or August, I forget the exact date, a friend told me, "I'm going to ban pirated posts on Tieba. Come support me."

I said, "You can't ban them all; there are too many pirated content sites."

She replied, "But no matter what, this is wrong, and I'm going to do something about it."

That phrase, "this is wrong," resonated deeply with me at the time, so I agreed. There was also a prevalent sentiment on Tieba then that deeply disgusted me: some people confidently believed that viewing pirated content was for the author's good, providing great help, and thus morally justifying piracy. For this, I posted three consecutive threads, which caused quite a stir. Initially, I debated with representative comments, using logic. But then one person appeared, making all sorts of remarks while explicitly stating, "I'm not saying this to debate; I'm just here to intentionally cause trouble." I genuinely felt angry about that at the time, so I put the matter out of my mind, went back to writing my book, and ignored such comments.

But what I kept thinking about wasn't that specific incident. Rather, it was some interesting things I observed afterward—what you might call... people talking to themselves.

There were always comments like these: 1. Authors shouldn't officially get involved in these matters; it affects their writing. 2. The author was misled by his friend and lost his rationality. 3. The author is fighting piracy just for money; he's too greedy. 4. The author will surely regret this someday; he's losing success and income because of it.

Honestly, every time I saw such comments, I felt insulted. I wasn't angry about other issues, or even about people hating me, because those who hate me for feeling targeted by me will eventually stop reading my books anyway.

What angered me was that I had so clearly expressed my stance in those posts, yet many people chose to ignore it.

Having frequented forums for several years prior, I could largely foresee the outcome from the moment I started posting. Frankly, I never expected to solve the piracy problem; as many said, pirated content is ubiquitous. But I absolutely could not tolerate the trend that piracy was supposedly "good for authors." If that trend took hold, everyone would feel justified, and something wrong would only grow stronger. I expressed my stance with utmost clarity in my posts, conveying the attitude that "this is wrong," yet many people later failed to understand me.

A man of letters must have a stance.

Later, I witnessed something very positive, and the outcome was ideal. Whether people praised me, hated me, or distorted my words, no one was saying, "I read pirated content because it helps the author a lot." Instead, some said, "I don't like you, so I'm going to read your pirated content. I'll subscribe to others' legitimate versions, but I'll read yours pirated." I was delighted. Many years ago, people unequivocally said that reading legitimate content was the norm. Not long ago, they comfortably read everyone's pirated works. But after this incident, they ultimately could not refute the simple concept that "piracy is wrong." Why did they start reading legitimate content? Because they didn't want to be criticized. One day, they will become the fertile ground for legitimate content, giving back to the community I am part of. Regardless of whether I'm still active in this community then, this time, I managed to change a trend on a small scale, turning something bad into something good.

But I still harbored resentment towards those previous comments. I stood there, utterly clear-headed, stating my position for something I believed was right. Yet, they always thought I was misled or incited by someone, always thought I made the wrong choice for personal gain, always thought I would regret it. After I had so clearly expressed everything, it made me feel... truly helpless.

This is a country of 1.3 billion people. A man of letters can't change anything; not even Lu Xun could. For me, an online writer, to speak of matters concerning men of letters is even more ridiculous. In recent years, I've gradually encountered a viewpoint: "What can you achieve?" For example, if you can't completely eliminate all piracy, what right do you have to oppose just one instance? What's the point of opposing this?

But human power doesn't work that way. One person alone cannot solve everything. For a nation of 1.3 billion, public opinion and trends must first move in a positive direction. Only after major societal trends shift will the government move in a better direction, because they will then feel the pressure. In recent years, we've seen declining public trust and a deteriorating society, not because we've done something, but because we've done nothing at all; we haven't even spoken up. When you see a scandalous news item one day and chuckle, saying "that's just how the world is" with a "mature" air, that trend has already been established. Unfortunately, it's a negative trend, and society will only worsen. Has anyone noticed the trends around them?

Actually, I'm not puzzled as to why they said those things about me. If they truly admitted I wasn't acting for personal gain, then their own positions would collapse. They can only believe, assert, and firmly conclude that I will regret my actions for financial reasons in the future. In the current environment, everything revolves more closely around self-interest. Fair morality has thinned to such an extent that deception requires little effort, and profit has become the simplest measure.

Take the matter of Han Han and Fang Zhouzi: a significant portion of those who opposed Han Han were subconsciously jealous of his immense influence, fame, and fortune. In the past, when we wrote, everyone tried to appear mature; even if we hadn't read many books, we wanted others to think we were mature and steady. We'd copy famous quotes into our notebooks and occasionally use a line like "Balzac once said" in our essays, even though we hadn't actually read the books. Now, by those standards, I can't prove that any book I wrote is truly mine, which is quite tragic. Fang Zhouzi, a thief he is.

I am not a man of letters; I wouldn't dare claim to be. The things I wouldn't dare say, Han Han said them, so for me, I really identify with him... Ah, I seem to have gone off-topic while writing this...

I suppose I am not straightforward enough; I always want to express my stance in the cracks, even though simply expressing a stance is now difficult for people to understand. In this country, for anything to be accomplished or led, it's ultimately up to the government. One trend they set determines the trend for 1.3 billion people. I believe these two aspects are complementary. That's why I went around speaking foolishly about morality, about what is right. Regarding games, I also debated piracy with people; piracy has stifled the gaming industry. So when some say, "Why do you only talk about pirated posts and not other things?" those comments don't hold water. I have indeed spoken about other issues. I believe I cannot change everything; I can only do my part.

A while ago, I smugly thought I had defeated a trend, at least on a small scale, and accomplished certain things. Long ago, authors who spoke up on Tieba were driven away, and some who applied for admin roles were eventually ousted by complaints about piracy. But with my case, my Tieba community at least retained many members and was free of pirated posts. I also gradually saw some other Tieba communities stop updating—a very small number, of course. I can't claim it was because of me, but I felt it was a kind of trend. Then recently, I saw a post on another book's Tieba, where someone said: "Banana said something very true: it's one thing to silently read pirated content, but it's completely illogical to brazenly claim you're doing it for the author's good..." Ah, at least I managed to convey my stance to some people, didn't I?

However, when the recently unveiled draft amendment to the copyright law came out, it wasn't designed to protect copyrights, but rather to, to some extent, legitimize various forms of piracy—whether in impression products, the literary industry, or other sectors... My feelings at the time were truly complex. I knew that ultimately, solving any real problem depends on the state. I thought I had done my part to influence the trend, and I was aware that the impact of these efforts was extremely limited. Yet, seeing society's trajectory about to swiftly reverse certain things still made me feel... well, I don't know how to put it, but regardless, I did what I could, didn't I?

I absolutely never write these things directly in my books. The correct approach is to use wish-fulfillment to unscrupulously draw readers in, and then subtly convey my message. When I wrote *Hidden Kill*, I wanted to convey the youth and warmth I longed for. When I wrote *Alienation*, I actually wanted to write about being human. And when writing, I wanted to write about patriotism... This sounds very profound, too profound, but at least in my books, I only wrap these ideas within the "YY" framework.

Of course, it's not about wish-fulfillment for being a good person, nor wish-fulfillment for patriotism. It's just that throughout the entire "YY" process, the serious elements need to be conveyed before others even notice. Whatever I want to say, it must always be captivating.

I'm an "angry youth," and still am, even if it makes me seem idiotic. But then again, in my heart, most patriotism is just a giant cesspool, and I don't respect history; I barely read historical materials...

I remember a few years ago witnessing something: a book sparked a massive debate about whether Yuan Chonghuan was a traitor or a loyal minister. I didn't read that book, and I can't recall its name right now. The debates at the time were overwhelming, but what impressed me most was that no matter what the discussion, it always devolved into a shouting match—you calling me a "Han traitor," me calling you a "Manchu remnant." I thought then, what is the meaning of such historical truth? What did these people, so knowledgeable about "historical truth" and possessing rich "historical knowledge," actually do apart from using their knowledge to insult others online and gain a sense of superiority? From that day on, I never read another history book.

I treat all history before 1840 as stories. If you say Yuan Chonghuan was a good person, what did he do, and what lessons do we learn from it? Are we to learn from Yuan Chonghuan himself, or from his good deeds? If he was a bad person, what detrimental things did he do to the nation and its people? We, of course, know not to do such things...

When I was young, I read a series of revolutionary stories, including those about mine warfare and tunnel warfare. They made my blood boil; I felt a strong sense of identification. When I write, I intend to weave these feelings in, through different approaches. I believe these types of books are more useful than all so-called "true" history.

I believe patriotism is a heavy topic. Patriotism must involve lessons, and these lessons should be directed at oneself, not at others. All of history, in my view, teaches that backwardness leads to being exploited—not that Mongolians, Manchus, or Japanese were inherently brutal and inhumane. Because cursing them achieves nothing; there's no lesson in it. Harming other nations to acquire one's own interests is the essence of all countries.

So, I don't hate the Japanese; it's not a matter of hatred. But to anyone, I can plainly state that I hope we can invade Japan. Japan's aggression back then wasn't because they were cruel, but because we were backward. A country like the Qing Dynasty deserved to be invaded; any nation capable of invading and not doing so is incompetent! Backwardness leads to being exploited—it's that simple. If this point can be made clear, people might develop a true sense of urgency.

One day my younger brother asked me, "What's the point of patriotism now? We have atomic bombs; no one dares to attack us. It doesn't matter if we're backward." I told him, "If we're backward, America will shift the burden of their financial crisis onto us. We'll still be exploited. If one day we become stronger than Japan, and attacking them yields benefits, then not attacking would be idiotic. This isn't about brutality; it's just how nations operate. That is patriotism."

Some years ago—I always forget the exact place—a provincial capital held a patriotic parade. These patriots organized thousands of people. At the time, a young woman was watching, wearing a Tang suit. Someone saw her and exclaimed, "That person is wearing a kimono! How outrageous!" The crowd became enraged, surrounding the restaurant. The leader rushed in, demanding the woman take off her clothes in front of everyone. She argued it was a Tang suit. The leader eventually realized his mistake, but said, "I know, but I can't calm the people below; you must take it off." The woman couldn't find a change of clothes, so she removed the Tang suit in the restroom and was left in her underwear, unable to come out. She had to call a friend to bring her clothes before she could leave. Meanwhile, those people gleefully took the Tang suit outside and burned it, treating it as a kimono. This is what patriots are like.

Over the years, I've seen many patriots online. They typically curse others, gaining a sense of superiority, and then engage in "YY" (wish-fulfillment) patriotism. No matter how illogical, shameless, or morally corrupt a person is, once they jump into the patriotic circle, they suddenly become a 'great, glorious, and correct' individual. Whatever the topic, as long as it touches upon these things, it's all about patriotism. Patriotism is just a giant cesspool.

The reason I later left the forum wasn't about morality. It was because when I was writing, someone commented, "Banana is actually going to write about the tragic cries of pioneers! We're already suffering enough in reality. In your novel, where you have control, you still make the enemy powerful," implicitly accusing me of being a "Han traitor" and unpatriotic. At that moment, I thought, "So this is how these people are patriotic now, and how they write books..."

If the enemy is foolish and we abuse them, *that's* patriotism...

That's why I don't hate the Japanese; I fear them. In every dynasty, any enemy capable of invading was powerful. Although I also write "YY" (wish-fulfillment) novels, I still want to depict people who truly struggled and fought, even if in a slightly "YY" way. I want to write about a generation that defeated powerful enemies through desperate effort, not just those who received a "golden finger" (an instant cheat/advantage).

I often feel a sense of urgency. I've read those books, those history books I used to read, and all I saw was that backwardness leads to being exploited. I feel fear in my heart. I always think that maybe I can do some things, perhaps without dying; if I can do a little, I will. At the very least, when I see something right, I can frankly say it's right. When I see something wrong, I can say it's wrong. This is all I can do.

I've written a lot of boring things that readers might not enjoy. I started writing at midnight, and it's been light for a long time now. I haven't eaten, and I'm very hungry. I apologize for not having a new chapter for you. Last night, I was considering new chapter titles, and I picked two: "Like myriad stars, all fallen into the sea," and "Heroes abound, but counsellors sicken." I then looked up the specific meaning of "heroes abound, but counsellors sicken" and found an old online article titled "Lu Xun—The Annoying Old Crow." That made me recall my past experiences reading Lu Xun's books, and suddenly I wanted to write something.

Haha, it seems I've rambled on into another essay, just like during my student days. No wonder I'm not very likable...

Yet, all I write now are online novels. Online novels are merely a form of entertainment. I don't engage in many other activities daily; I don't play games, nor do I have much leisure. I just write, meticulously refining and revising text, pushing my standards as high as possible, and trying not to think too much about money. This is how I comfort myself that I still have a pure dream, because I believe a man of letters' integrity lies in their books, while a merchant's integrity is in their updates. I tell myself I still have dreams, but in truth, these dreams have become quite distorted.

Ultimately, I am not a man of letters. I wasn't one before, I'm not one now, and I likely won't become one in the future. There are things I want to curse, but I'm afraid. I only dare to speak in the small spaces where I can, to talk vaguely about morality, to state my stance, to point out right and wrong. I still have to eat, support my family, and face reality; I can't risk everything.

It's just self-consolation, really.

Perhaps there has been some progress. Sometimes I was too serious, always wanting to debate, even when others were being frivolous. Now, I no longer want to do anything futile. At most, I just have a stance. When I encounter nonsense, I'll simply swear at it. Be direct and be done with it.

I need to go to sleep. After writing all this, I feel as if I've emptied myself of several years' worth of thoughts. I'm still very sorry for not providing an update. There will be one when I wake up. After all, it's my twenty-seventh birthday, and I need to say goodbye.

Good morning, everyone.