Villainess's Sweet Everyday

Whether you look at it or not, the reality goes on.Daily jail proceeds indiscriminately, without thinking about it.Fortunately, there seems to be no backsliding of time, so if I get off the bus, it's not like I was a kindergarten child.If this world was someone's work, how would it be treated and disposed of?I wonder what happiness is.Suddenly, I feel the shaking of the bus.I wonder if I can open it if I have any chance.It made me feel better by placing the center of gravity of my head on the chair.Is it a stick or a scissors?What should I describe?Nothing in particular comes to mind for the time being.I wonder what it means to find a cure, to find yourself helpless, to be swayed by buses and run through the city without any progress.I don't want to think too much about it.In order to survive as a nobleman to this day, I have learned the art of living through masks.