It turns out that when a person seems to lose something, they become less talkative. The once boisterous me has now become so silent. Among all the people I have lost, the one I miss the most is myself. In my youth, I did not understand the taste of sorrow, trying to express it with new words, but now having tasted the bitterness of sorrow, I want to speak but hold back, want to speak but hold back, yet I say, what a nice autumn it is.

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