Life is, indeed, a struggle these days. No expectations, high pressure, tight schedule, failed exams. It seems like everything is compressed inside me. I really don't know why did the world treat me like this. All I did for cope with this anxiety is doomscrolling, which worsened my already fucked up attention span. Till this point do I started to realised the power of the text, the actual ability to just sit down and generate something that is entirely your own. I have been reflected on myself for a while these days. Probably I pushed myself too hard, I don't know. I wanna escape from everything I knew at this point. Exams and competitions are crushing me inside out. But let's talk about texts, about literature. I feel like I myself is nothing but an empty shell from outside. like the "American psycho", I am only an ideal, although you can feel my flesh, I am simply not there. Patrick Bateman is a character that I've been thinking about a lot. I cannot emphasize enough the similiarty between me and him. Although some differences still exist, such as my dad didn't own a company or anything like that. Perhaps writing is something that can be used to fight back for this kind of emptyness. What makes it meaningful is that you're writing something that is entirely on your own. Not by someone, not even from someone, it is something new. Not gonna lie, it feels good. I recently started to give attention to blog again, partially because I wanna write some math texts / algorithm texts I think? Probably I'm not sure whether I have time to do so. But however I think I need to write consistently to ensure that I wouldn't lose myself. Good night. —— 2026-03-30 00:17