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Young and naive, that's what we are on our early days. We put our dreams on single paper, let it fly and drove by the wind. We thought about our dreams like it was on our grasps, with our hands holding tight to each other, we wish and hope. But like my paper plane that was blown by the wind, my hands left holding unto nothing. I have now achieved my goals, but the person who held my dream isn't here with me at all.