i want to go abroad, indeed.
but it needs enough money.


my writing still improves like a snail and wanders around in the maze with no entrance.
every time when i reflect on myself i only get few rough ideas.
i am willing to take encourages and seldom think deeply what the wrong with it.
in my deep mind, i don't want to face the truth--i ain't good at writing in english, i think.
there is always a voice warming me what should i have to do or not to do so.
what's even worse, i am usually trying to ignore it and living in a relax life. this is the way all the losers definitely do it all the time, i supposed.


please, please, please, don't leave me in the lonely way.
if you are still here i won't waste our precious time.