Master, Slow Down

The bus driver stepped a little harder on the gas, and the world immediately became ugly.

I would have preferred sitting on a slow-moving bus, watching the people and scenery outside gradually recede.

Ideal life should be like this—I don’t want to be overwhelmed.

But the one driving isn’t me.

The company’s little sister often doesn’t bring money and can’t eat lunch.

After meals, I have no choice but to treat her.

She says, “I’m so sorry, you’re always treating.”

Heh.

Internally roaring.

MLGB!!!

At first I thought if I treat you once, you’d at least treat me back once. But every meal ends up being on me.

Actually I’m also short on money, but still have to pretend to be generous. Bitter smile.

—You just can’t bear to watch others go hungry in front of you.

It must be because summer has arrived.

Feeling a bit restless inside.

Eyes can’t help but wander.

Accidentally saw something.

Sin, sin.

Sister, wearing such an ultra-short skirt and sitting so MAN-like…

Sometimes I’m also cheap.

Knowing there’s nothing to see, I still look.

You can’t dig my eyeballs out, can you?

I said, I’ve already started feeling bored. Using a 17-inch screen for design is an insult to this industry.

Can’t take it anymore, want to change jobs.

Change to what?

I want to work in front of a 27-inch monitor.

Pfft~~ That’s just hope, not reality.

Seeing my own designs being happily played with by others—

a bit of a sense of accomplishment.

Sudden realization: the purpose of design is to make clients ignore the design.

Clearly doing things without edges or corners,

but getting better and better at talking.

Like usual, a brick flew past.

Probably because the city is too clean—dirt is nowhere to be seen.

And the phone’s airplane mode can only be used once.

In high school, the girl who sat behind me always liked to write on my back.

Guess what she wrote?

Don’t know.

I’ll write one more, guess again. Your back is so fleshy, it feels good to write on.

Actually I enjoyed it too, like a massage. Class was boring anyway.

Later we were separated into different classes. Didn’t speak for five or six years.

Last week, my classmate said I can design websites and gave her my QQ.

Ding ding ding…

It’s you! Asking if I still remember her?

Of course I do—the girl who wrote on my back.

“Hehe… I forgot.”

…

Ten thousand whys ask me one question,

then I Google one question.

Then I become an encyclopedia.

Everyone knows how we should live our lives,

but I’ve never worked toward that direction.