Youth is half bright and half sad.
During my three years in high school, I met many precious people. They taught me friendship, made me understand love, and gave me a lot of pain that I can't let go.
Many years later, I returned to the high school campus and walked past the bustling South District pavilion, walked along the school road covered with fallen leaves in autumn, and walked past the door of the administrative building where we once stood together. But no matter how long or how far I walk, I can't go back.
During those youthful years buried in the depths of time, we can't talk about it to anyone except the people who used to be there. But when I meet those people again, I have nothing to say.