And the moment when I stood up from the ground in tremors, the play began. At that point, I controlled the incompetence, peed my pants, so they put on diapers for me, and if they were wet, I would always cry, but I saw them changing diapers for me, smiling, lovingly. When they grow up, they're always laughing at me. So, I thought pissing my pants was a good thing, so this piss, you know. When I was six years old, I finally saw in my family's eyes that the contempt was not clear at first, as if the words were hidden in the fog. Later, they told me with the utmost seriousness that you couldn't piss your pants again, or you'd be punished and spanked. I can't understand why I'm laughing. Unfortunately, the muscles that are always loose are somehow controlled, and so, urine, has since become the worst nightmare.

Remember when I was in kindergarten, every time I showed up, the teacher put me in the bathroom. I take off my shoes and socks, wash my wet legs, put on the spare pants taken from my school bag, then put dirty pants in a plastic bag, go back to the classroom, wipe the chair clean, and face the cynical sarcasm of squeezing the nose. This is the day I went through in my childhood.

The smell of urine is as if the vines kept holding me in my way of growing up, and I ran to the ends of the world, and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't get used to it, because I smelled clean after cleaning, and in contrast, the stench was the stench, undisputable, even 10 years later, 20 years later. This has proved to be the case. When I was 36 years old, the children of those around me started writing novels, and I was still alone. I long to be with them, but whenever someone wants to know me well, I feel humbled, flee, and hide, and when they see a world covered in urine and yellow, they will surely abandon me.

Do not think that you can abandon me. I left you first. I lied to myself. When it comes to heavy rain, I love it, and when it washes, I can finally throw away my piss bag, relax, and the free urine drops down in the rain, and after that, there will be no smell. I open my mouth to rain, I drink lots and lots and lots and lots of rain. And I danced in the rain, and I was happy, and if people looked at me from afar, they would think I had won the lottery, but what they didn't know was that I peed, and in public, I peed, as I breathed, I blinked, and my obituary was in every position. I don't have to be ashamed of what I can't control. God, let the rain never stop and wash away the smell of cold eyes and urine on me. I'm tired of living in a situation where the urine infiltrates my skin, my bones, my soul, and my soul. When I'm exhausted and I'm home, I'm out of piss and I can feel it. The sheets are new and I'm all pounced up and covered. After a moment, it was warm, rained and thundered, and I felt some heat, reaching my arms to both sides of the pillow, which was cold. How good would it be if it were every day.

Too bad there's no such thing. How do you say this is a nightmare? I still peed a bed after I woke up. Happiness is always short. I pulled out the sheets, and the plastic tarp underneath seemed to be broken, and the urine leaked into the mattress along the derelict. I'm looking for the auto-cleaning foam that I bought to wash and deodorant it, but it's dead. And so I cried, and I cried, and I cried, and I peed on top, and I peed on the ground, and I should've peed on it, but every time I cried, and this strangled, I would have squeezed out a drop or two. Go to his piss bag, go to his free foam, go to his life.

I'm gonna kill myself, and I'm so careful. Jesus couldn't keep me, I said. But I didn't know that Jesus seemed to have known about it, so I met...

To be continued...

The "Communist script" is an innovative project, not only a script, but also an open platform for building imagination and creativity. At its core is continuous creation, encouraging participants to continue writing stories of their hearts and to extend them to unknown areas. The glamour of the project is that it can be accepted and appreciated, be it a detailed epic or a simple short article. It is open-ended, is not confined to fixed circumstances or endings, but allows every creator to freely exercise their imagination and creativity. This diverse form of creation gives every story an endless possibility. Another feature of the communist script is its community nature. Together, the creators made the script an organism that grew and changed. Everyone is contributing to this common project, and everyone's creation will be part of the whole work. This method of co-creation gives life and change to the script. In general, the "communist script" is a place to stimulate creativity and bring people together in wisdom. It encourages us to challenge traditional storytelling and to break down fixed thinking patterns so that our imagination and innovation can be fully realized. By continuing to create, we can push the story further and more unknown, revealing the infinite possibilities and diversity of life.

Welcome to the paper.

The Communist script.

"I'll die in a cold winter."

"Communicated scripts."

The communist script is a private diary.

"The Virgins."

"The Cave of Doraemon"

"Filomella is a Girl."

"Men Photographer"

The Communist script.

"A Late Submission"