Write write, read read read. The most beautiful part of my youth was studying constantly with a group of peers. I could only be so busy. I am used to it? No, I will still complain and mourn in front of my homework. I surrendered! Choose to do it when you can't do it! It's fine as long as I'm still me among the busy crowd, but I almost don't recognize myself. Did he become a fool, a weak scholar, by reading and going around in circles? Do I have to admit it? Indeed, I was a little numb to the point of stupidity. Reading makes me stupid. I can find the correct answers to a bunch of math problems one by one, which makes science easy. But I have to really know myself. Am I still me? Am I really me?