On Ten Thousand Ways to Remind Updates

You... haven't written for a long time.Because killing people with paper isn't always as fun as the real thing, you think.Of course, I know that you don't have the courage to really try, so why not let me satisfy you.

I still remember that time, you were like a naive kid, placing so much hope on reality.You think that everyone will like your work, no doubt, in my opinion, you are the best.And my cognition will also be the cognition of everyone.But the facts seem to knock you out of your head.You break your heart and say that not everyone will like you.

This is what paper and pen teach you.

You weave dreams one by one, and you hope that those people, those well-dressed gentlemen, those women with exquisite nail polish, and those innocent and cute children with slightly curly hair, etc., you hope they will like you Text, I like that you use a [-]B pencil that is slowly sharpened to write on a piece of clean white, standard A[-] paper bought from a printing shop.

You've written a lot of stories, many, many, but still too few for me to feel like enough.

Writing a story is easy, you think.Infuse it with your wildest emotions, good and bad, and the most innocent of the middle.Oh that's beautiful.You can fabricate a likable character at will, and then write a third-rate plot at will to kill him.

It's so easy to kill people with paper, write down a name you think sounds the best, draw a slash upward with a [-]B pencil, oh, it's so easy.You can raise the dead, and torture the kindest of men—of course you know what the kindest of men are.You will always know your enemy.

But soon you will be bored.This is too thin, this is too light.You said, you stopped writing.Oh no, don't do this.If you don't like it, I still like it.

But you stopped writing, and sat at home for a long time, and then you still took your [-]B pencil and walked out of the house, out of the living room that you haven't cleaned up for a long time, and now it is full of rancid smell, and stood outside in the sun.

I... I'm angry.I want you to know the price you will pay for not writing.

You must not know why you came out with a pencil.

Your pencils always run out quickly.For today, I order you to sharpen the sharpest new pencil.I bet it's the sharpest pencil in the world, it cuts all flesh, punctures, pokes.Because this is the pencil I asked you to sharpen.

Ah, someone looked at you and smiled at you.He smiled politely.You recognize it as your neighbor who lives next door, a very nice man.You also wanted to smile at him politely, but failed.In fact, your gloomy face made the guy who smiled politely look embarrassed.

You want to say sorry, but can't.Of course, because I've got you under control.I asked you to take your pencil, walked towards that person, and said to the guy with an embarrassed face, please, let's talk in another place.

You start to panic, why can't your body move?You took that guy to a remote, uninhabited place, and you prayed in your heart, why didn't that guy notice your difference, but followed you obediently?Of course, because I'm influencing it.

My best pencil, and it does what it does with ease.As I said, this is my pencil, and it is the sharpest.

You took my pencil and stabbed the man's masseter muscle.The man trembled in pain, but couldn't move.Below the masseter muscle is the maxilla, on which the pencil pierces the flesh and penetrates into the bone. You want to say, how can a pencil be so sharp?Even when you are forced to pull out the pencil, you use a lot of strength.Oh, the pencil is too deep, and it is too difficult to pull out.

My pencil then penetrated the trapezius.This is a good muscle because it's close to the collarbone.Don't you usually like to describe the clavicle?What words are you using?Let me think about it, oh, yes, you said that the collarbone of the person you described is the most delicate, making people want to lick it slowly, because it represents whether a person has the most basic sexy bones.

You used my pencil as a knife, pierced the muscle and started to scratch.You definitely didn't expect this pencil to be so sharp, as if waving your hand in the air.You are surprised to find that your pencil slides across the trapezius muscle smoothly and lightly, until it enters the sternocleidomastoid muscle, and then stops.

Ah, it's the ribs.If you cut the man's flesh open, you'd lose all interest in the rows of ribs, but right now the skeleton is covered in flesh, strong and full.You remember, the poor neighbor in front of you who is suffering the same misfortune as you, is [-] years old, and likes to go to the gym on weekends, so his chest muscles are tense and bulged in pain, and they are pitiful and shrinking. You want to sympathize with him , but thought, compared with you whose body is controlled, I don’t know who is more pitiful.

Oh, my dear author Zeng, don't fall in love with such pectoral muscles.You know, this muscle is only exercised with drugs and schedules in the gym, and it has no real strength at all.Do not believe?Then I will show you.

My pencil is in your hand.In the eyes of this poor man, you are the culprit.You hold the pencil, slide down from the deltoid muscle, to the pectoralis major, biceps femoris, and then to the external oblique muscles, and draw a long valgus scratch on his pectoral muscle.I bet you're turning off your appetite at the moment because of the white substance peeking out from the scratch.

I want to tell you that it is fat, would you believe it?Of course, this is just lying to you.But you must believe it, because you feel sick and want to throw up.

But your hand still hasn't stopped, because I prefer to call this hand my hand.

With the pencil you hold, draw circles on his belly.You can no longer look this man in the eye.You're scared, you want to cry, you want to tell that person that you can't help yourself.But I have given you a vicious and perverted expression.You must not have noticed that your masseter muscle is twitching nervously, your tongue sticks out and licks your lips, showing a bloody and enjoying expression.

My former author, you know?In his heart, you have become a perverted sadist.

You feel with a pencil in the area of ​​his lower abdomen.You know here is the pelvis, and the sacrum under the spine.These bones seem to be no fun, and the muscles are not good-looking, so the pencil goes down again, and your neighbor, instead of being relieved by this, becomes more nervous.

Oh, yes, he is a man, and your pencil has gone down to a place that frightens him.Sartorius, that's the muscle in your neighbor's thigh.And next to it are his scrotum and sac.Your pencil is hesitating on it. My emotions make me think, should I stick it down neatly?And the man's shriveled penis.

Your hand was inserted without warning, with the courage to move forward, what I would like to call a warrior.Your neighbor's pupils widened suddenly, his mouth opened wide and he couldn't speak, and the pants under him also quickly turned bloody, huh, there is a strange smell?Oh, the poor man is incontinent.And you, your fear is not shallower than his, and even your lower body feels a faint pain.

Oh, sorry, I forgot you're a man too, you feel the same way.

The pencil went down again, and the strong jeans, in front of my pencil, did not play a strong role in the fabric.Beneath the rectus femoris muscle is the femur, which is a very long bone with a very long cleft from the pencil.As you passed the kneecap, you plunged the pencil in, causing another madness in the poor man.He is really pitiful, but you must also remember that you are also looking for this pity.

The tibia and fibula were bitten like a stapler, and holes were punched out by my pencil.I have reached the lateral ankle, is my speed fast?Your neighbour's ankle bone, above and below yours, with my pencil I've smashed the bone to pieces.This bone is not very strong, is it?If it's not how people always twist their feet, it's better for us to condemn this bone severely.

My pencil rests on his leather shoes.I don't know if this man has foot odor, so the pencil stayed here for a while.The poor man is not yet fainted, even though he would like to die immediately.Forget it, playing with people's feet doesn't seem to have much meaning.

Is this over?You waited anxiously, the pencil didn't move for a long time, and even the poor man showed a fluke look.He forgets so quickly, he's lost his humanity

That characteristic is alive.

Do you want to throw away the pencil?The black refill has turned red, and the refill is still as sharp as it was sharpened before you went out.

The pencil moved again.This time, it stayed on your body.

You panic and cry out inwardly, begging whoever will come and save you, but no.You start to regret, regret that you shouldn't come out, you should honestly continue writing in the room with a blunt pen.

But it didn't work.The pencil fell on your flesh, and you were desperate.

do you know?I'm just telling you a truth, the pen can kill on paper as well as in reality.Which method of killing do you prefer?

Oh, no more thinking, no more deciding.Because it was late, I thought that the pen kills people is the most beautiful.My pencil will also be used on you.