I'm Judes.

After the last article, "This is Rhode Island"... some feedback was received. There are currently 12 additional friends, 6 in the field, 2 not talking, 1 not agreeing, 1 coming and 2 coming.

I don't think it's enough. When the cheesy read enough. The appeal is still weak, the symbols are poorly understood, the true expression is weak and the people's mind is weak. Not enough? Not enough despair.

I've been in the community for two days. During the day, they sit in a small flat to unblast windows for residents, while at Headquarters they work at night, waiting for field missions. I left early with the captain last night at 10:00, and I'm afraid I won't make it to the subway. I asked my colleagues today about their 1200 shift. It was a one-time break, but suddenly there was a temporary immunization policy, which required three days' work, and I went to bed today, starting at 7:00.

Last night on the subway was desperate, not feeling well and feeling guilty. Thinking about how painful it would be if I did it all the time.

You want to run, you can't run, you have to pay your debts, you have to live.

But when I met the next morning, I figured out a way to overcome despair - I took more shifts and shared with my colleagues the long nights. In that case, you're not afraid to work overtime. I like my colleagues. They're nice.

He Fa always said it was about improving human relations.

I think that the person who loved the last article was not the "free" I wanted to see, but rather the comfortable "free" person. They've always been, it's old; I'm not good at writing, it's new.

I want some people to look at my articles and laugh, shake their heads, feel useless, too weak. Despair remains, to watch the drama, sit at 510. I think it's good: he's gonna say something, not too much; he's a little conservative, he can't accept the idea of being too forward, but he's got a strange decorating on him and he doesn't say anything; he's just going to listen to the song, and he's leaving late. Makes me a little desperate.

I don't know if I'm going to be comfortable again, or now. When I write, I want you to yell at me because I'm self-obsessed.

So do me a favor: please bring despair. There is total despair, so much hopelessness, so much hopelessness. It could mutate cancer cells.

I'm Judes.

It's my Wisdom.

Come talk to me.

Or come directly to 510 and talk to me.

I'll wait here.