I could force me to do it, but I couldn't deceive myself.

I thought I could force myself to do a lot of things, but it turned out that I really couldn't do it.

Just after writing the promise that I must finish the book, I restricted the number of words on the computer and forced myself to complete the book. My nightmare also began at this time.

The number of words I set is 10,000 words, and I pick it up and put it down, put it down and pick it up again; over and over again, again and again. I can't write anything by myself, and even if I write it out, it's still garbage that I can't stand.

Sorry, I really can't continue to complete this book with those stiff sentences.

When writing is no longer my happiness, but my pain, I can’t hold on anymore.

I don’t know how many times I made such a decision. Maybe it was a mistake at the beginning, and I shouldn’t have taken this path at all. I don’t want to write about survival in the literary world of Piaotian.

"Love Envelope" can no longer be written. Even if you force yourself, it will be an unfinished ending. Instead of unfinished ending, it is better to end here.

It's time to say goodbye, I give in, I quit.

Sorry everyone.
Chapter completed!