As a liberal arts student, I often feel sad because my writing skills are not enough and I don't know how to describe my current mood. Flipping through my notes, I accidentally came across something I wrote ten years ago. The free life I once dreamed of has now been realized.

However, I am not happy. Material conditions shape consciousness; subjective perceptions align with objective reality. Compared to back then, my material foundation has greatly surpassed, yet I still often long for the past. After dinner at home, I had many things I wanted to say, but I deleted them all.
You, in your youth, always thought that all people and events would follow your expected trajectory, and the cost of regret was too heavy. Writing through thousands of mountains, your pen falls.