Family, Essay, Daily Life



Only then do I open my eyes and take my bag and stand in front of the door in the direction of getting up and down. I am transferring from line 4 to line 1 in a state of mind that is hard to even tell where I am. Most of my days are like this. On the subway or roads that are blocked.

There was a time when the journey home from the company was irritating, but now it’s hardly the case. Most of the emotions were volatile and became habits as they tried not to leave much aftertaste. So for a while, I thought, ‘Oh, I’m doing well.’ However, when I get home, I just do my job. Turning on the TV, turning on the computer, and then correcting the pictures I’ve been to over the weekend. As my emotions were volatile, my bad feelings became volatile, but I felt like I was being robbed of my feelings.

However, there is a little change in marriage.

My dullness needed to disappear. From the time of love, she talks about what happened on that day. At first, the biggest concern was how to focus and what part to react to when talking about many parts. Sometimes such worries make her face stand out, and she was disappointed in those parts.

The answer to the problem was actually nothing. The wife was diluting her feelings with such actions, and making her volatile. She’s a sensitive person, so she’s under more stress than I am insensitive. Then all I have to do is help her get rid of her stress thoroughly.

But one day, it became fun to listen to. The wife was talking about what her day was like, and it was nice to see her. On TV, I remembered a scene where I was talking about the number of words that men and women had to use in a day, and my wife seemed to fit into that category.

In fact, before marriage, my wife had quite a depression, which usually didn’t come out well and then seemed to do so when she entered the closing season or had a lot of work to do. So whenever I did that, I would pick her up, which ends late, and take her home, or ask her to go eat something delicious over the weekend or something like that. But she had something more important than that.

Listen to each other and talk to each other. And then we joke around and laugh. It was so trivial and I just thought it was our daily life. The story, which began with the idea of just listening, has become the image of a day that is ending in our daily lives.

It’s your story, but it becomes our story in the end.

How was your day?