Chapter 30 thirty, inexplicable

I really envy Kafka.At least he can avoid the sun and give up the beauty.I have no way to escape, no courage to give up.His evasion and abandonment can be appreciated by others, but I am like a bacterium, chased by light and beauty and have nowhere to hide. I hope to portray myself as a freak, different from the so-called laity, I hope my aesthetics are different from ordinary people, that is, to see shit as art, and art as shit; Evil, criticize the sun on evil. I wish I was half crazy.A completely lunatic is too lunatic, and a half-mad belongs to: still looks human, speaks human, eats human food, father is human father, and mother is human mother.But the human words that are spoken make people sound like bastard words, and the personnel affairs that are done make people look like they are asking for help.I'm going to go mad professionally and officially, not after work, coming home sweaty, and taking a shower before rushing mad.That didn't really reach the level of insanity.

I want to be a lunatic who will never be surprised. I hate being surprised. If I say "I want to marry a rich husband", some people don't know how to be surprised.Kafka certainly never expressed surprise at people's stupid, ugly, whimsical ideas. I look forward to growing up, so that I don't have to go to school when I grow up, and I can be a lunatic at home every day.I'm going to hide in a corner, like an angry lion, trying to create things that people will never understand, but that will double in value after I die.I only eat beautiful leaves, lilies, birds of paradise, not bones that people throw away.I will not cut off my ears before I die, I will float and float in the lake, I am a hollow soul.

Alas!I feel cold, it's disgusting.