Perhaps it was because I was a boy, but I was active from a young age, constantly running and jumping, never stopping for a day. As my grandma would say, it was as if I had eaten “monkey meat” and couldn’t stop moving. Perhaps this childhood activity laid a good foundation for me; my athletic ability in later studies was quite good. Later, when I played basketball, my physique gradually developed into what it is today. The story begins with my experiences after college.

This blog was built from scratch in a few days. Previously, Next.js was used, and it was built with AI at that time. I basically don’t know front-end development. AI did it all. I just made some simple adjustments, but after a while, I forgot how to launch it. Coupled with Next.js’s security issues some time ago, I simply switched to Hugo. The most important thing is that Cloudflare’s CDN supports Hugo, so no extra configuration is needed; you can directly upload the entire project. It can be said to be very convenient. However, the problem was that I hadn’t played much with Hugo. Fortunately, there was AI, but there were also some minor hitches in between, and I have some thoughts to share.

The successive passing of my parents truly felt like a huge tumble, leaving me a bit numb. I didn’t know what sadness was, nor how to express it. Only occasionally, when thinking of them, would tears fall uncontrollably. For a long time, my emotions were at an all-time low, feeling as if I was at a critical point where I might shatter with the slightest touch. I tried to seek solace from various angles. My biggest knot was the desire for even a single word of farewell. I wasn’t by their side when they passed, and I even had unresolved emotions. Little did I know, I would never see them again. From initial sadness and regret, it finally turned into silent acceptance. Of course, there was no reason not to accept it. As someone who has read a few books, there was no reason not to accept, but behind the acceptance, there was indeed an unspoken discomfort. Many people passed away before them; this was a form of self-comfort. Just like when I didn’t want to get married, I thought there were countless people in the world without descendants, so why should I be the one to carry on the family line? Now, I can apply this again: countless people in the world have lost their parents, and I am just one of the many. They were also normal people, and reaching this point was very natural. All the realistic and self-comforts always had a loophole. No matter how reasonable, normal, or natural everything was, I always felt unwilling. The reason was that on the night my father passed away, I dreamt of my deceased mother pacing anxiously in front of me, seemingly with something difficult to say, but she never spoke it. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Reflecting on it later, I suddenly understood.