You'll never know what you've done.

 　　 You never know what you've done

　　　　 —Reflections on "Cry Me a Sad River"

Living is more terrifying than dying.

The instinct to cling to life and fear death is primal, but living is a far more terrifying thing than death. Life can withstand the pressures of material possessions, work, daily life, and family, yet it still succumbs to mental pressure. The power of mental burden is enough to kill a person.

You never know how much damage your words or actions can cause, or how much psychological trauma they can inflict. And how do you act?

A joke explains everything you've done. If someone stuffed chalk dust in your mouth, burned your hair with a lighter, splashed red ink on you, poured garbage into your food, called you a murderer, or a pathogen, would you consider it a joke?

Rumors are more terrifying than actual harm; their impact is immeasurable, and in the worst cases, they can drive someone to suicide.

Many people say that death is the most cowardly way, the most pathetic way to escape reality. You only know that he died, but no one investigates why he died. Who doesn't want to live a good life? Who wants to die?

Among the causes of death, the most hateful are those who didn't actually commit the act—the bystanders. If the one who actually did the act is the principal offender, then you are accomplices and will also be subject to moral condemnation and legal punishment. From another perspective, the real murderers are those who didn't actually do the work.

Jokes are fine, but there should always be limits. Don't treat other people's weaknesses as dessert after a meal. When you recklessly publicize someone else's scars, you are also killing them. Must we wait until we've actually killed someone before we repent?