oPen ThE doOr

The style I like is always hard to represent. I think that I am so bad to behave well in detail that the gauze skirt like a wrinkled piece and the veins of the door indistinctly. However, I'm trying to practice to convey the impression, or feelings, that I wanna indicate. It's much more difficult than presenting with words, the way I am used to.

Sometimes painting makes me sink into the think cap. I can be bewildered nearly everything, such as a job in future, the basis of my life. It's kind of stupid for creating trobles for myself, but I just can't help myself.

Last night a point flashed through my mind; did I spend a lot admiring others but few appreciating myself? How silly I am! I ought to be flattered by being me. It's the earnestness rather than a fraud to cheat myself into bliss. Nevertheless, practice is necessary or the creed is just a phrase merely.