Half a messy draft paper, a bottle of ice cream flavored Amway, two new songs by Fish Leong, three or four blank exam papers, and seven unsent text messages. These were all the key words of mine on a weekend night in the third year of high school. My temper was getting worse and worse, my memory was getting worse and worse, my pimples were growing more and more, my worries were becoming more and more complicated, and my dreams were getting further and further away. In general, at that time, my life was like a stagnant pool, dull and uninteresting. I could feel bad about myself, but I was always worried that others would think I was not good enough. In my dictionary, the word "confidence" was unstable, sometimes it stayed on the homepage, and sometimes it was ruthlessly deleted.