This is my little world.
To shave my hairs makes me clearer to thinking about my present life. Is that what I want?
More and more works bring me more and more pressure. I have to spent many of my rest time to complete the works. Am I lost myself? I feel that I am becoming a working machine. I just do all the jobs without any affection.
When the winter cold wind blows me awake, I always feel depressed. The lack of a sense of accomplishment let me unhappy. I need to succeed, even just a little bit success will let me cheer. More than once I though to give up, but the hope of the future brought me back.
Everything is gray, like this picture.