I frequently recall the past golden days when I was an undergraduate student, glorifying the youth and dearly friendship.  

So ego-centric was I then that I hardly could    take heed of traces of aging and of the  incidence of intangible feelings. Having been obsessed myself with glorification for a long time, suddenly, I raised my head, finding it so astonishing to accept the wreck havoc constantly in existence. 

I have long been  held in captivity and detention by the beauty of the past and the fascination with fantasy. Never have I  been  conscious of my immaturity. All altered completely, and barely resumed, subconsciously, I still enjoy being gripped by the the fragments of the past and gnawing at myself with uncountable loss simultaneously.  As a result of ambiguity and contradiction, I started to get addicted to and dependent on sleeping pills, relieving my tormented mind of distress and confusion. Dismay and despression haunt me the whole night and day,  in sober times as well as in dreams. There seems to be blurry boundary between reality and life. Caught in the vicious cycle of inferiority complex in constant competition with superiority complex, I yearn to escape from it. But I have been torn apart into pieces. Ashes, indefinite. How can I restore the wholesome self. With anxiety and fatigue, death seems to await me? Well said, huh, "Dying is the side effect of depression." And that is the solution to my perplexity.