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One day, our teacher asked us to write an essay about a child's dream - about our dreams.

I really tried my best to write my own dream in great detail. The same as what my mind and heart want to say. What it wants to tell the world.

But for a child like me, I didn't make it.

My best wasn't enough. To express it for it to be understood.

"That is why it is frustrating that your output matters much more than the effort you put into it. It is frustrating that it acts as a basis for someone's personality and identity." I commented, and they all nodded, agreeing with what I said.

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