The time on the phone screen is still flickering, and midnight has already passed.

The more chaotic the surroundings, the more I feel like I’m watching a silent film that has nothing to do with me. That excitement of starting anew for the New Year has long been worn down into a cocoon by one mediocre day after another.

We have all changed. If someone used to dare to show their attitude, whether it was the boss or the heavens, the first reaction was to flip the table, to confront head-on, to act recklessly as if starting over didn’t matter. Now? The words are swallowed before they leave the mouth, the wine in the glass swirls three times, and finally turns into a polite “Good,” received.

Some say this change is maturity; others say it’s living life wisely. But I always feel, what’s this if not reconciliation with oneself? It’s clearly being pacified by life.

We hide that sword not because we don’t need self-defense, but because we’re afraid the noise of drawing it will be too loud, waking up that hard-earned, aggrieved self who finally fell asleep.

Since we can’t unleash our fists and feet in this steel and concrete cage, let’s find a different place.

Don’t just see travel as a way to relax; it’s your battlefield to reclaim your aggressiveness. Go see those unregulated mountains and rivers, go feel the wind that doesn’t look at anyone’s face. In a strange city, no one knows who you work for or who your parents are—you only belong to yourself.

When blisters form on your feet, and you’re gasping loudly on the mountain top, that fearless spirit might just surge up your forehead along with the blood.

Follow your heart—these four words are too precious, but you can afford them.

If at this moment you also feel that the wine in your hand isn’t strong enough, then buy a ticket in your heart.

In this life, if you can’t live like a blazing fire, at least don’t let yourself become a pile of extinguished ashes.