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I'm worried to the extreme. There are two ways to write good things in the world: one is to talk to life, and the other is to talk to yourself. I am probably destined to be the latter. I look back on myself in my cowhide book every day and say that stand-up comedy is very fun for me and my inner dialogue is very open. There is no way to write good things, so I can only talk to my friends. Weibo will only dismember words, dismember emotions into emotions, and disappear in the process of refreshing. Weibo's classic sentences are really clever, but they are too artificial, clever and thoughtless. A really good language can only be produced on a silent assembly line. The last thing I want to see is that the longest reading limit for my children in the future is 140 words, and the most reading style is MSN signature. Speaking of myself, I have made up my mind to reduce the frequency of updating Weibo. I found that I was more used to sitting with a broom in middle school, writing a piece of paper and hiding it in a pencil box. I am a chatterbox, but I didn't express my desire. I am still used to a thin life, and I feel comfortable only when I live in the space-time with the lowest breathing density of the living. Have you ever heard the songs played by piano players in Grand Hotel? They are the most lonely people in the world, surrounded by the noise of society, but they are more lonely than the people on the island. ...