'Cross the Threshold

Alice came to a fork in the road...
"Which road do I take?^ she asked.
^Where do you want to go?^ responded the Cheshire cat.
^I don't know,^ Alice answered.
Then said the cat, ^It doesn't matter.^

This day, God opened more than a thousand windows. It was to say, in a thousand unspoken words, that a chance is given in replacement for a door he never opened for me.

I saw my grades for the 2nd semester of A.Y. 2005-2006. No failures. And I^m happy, atleast my dad won^t have to criticize my involvement in debate, and not blame all else.

I miss my mom, and that is fairly unusual for my perspective. I never had a good relationship with her, but for some reason, I^ve started to miss being with her. Now that I^m all grown up, -- and I mean that on a mental note -- I^m starting to realize how hard it was for her. Things always appear in a complete whiteout in our family, and she always had to go through a lot. Not that I care less about my dad. I also feel for him in some way.
The most difficult part of life is having no one but yourself. And I guess, my parents, my siblings and I, all have to live through that twinge of reality.

***
Blinded.
I even had to grapple the fact that I am never to acknowledge love. Although my words, my thoughts, my diseases surround its frailty, I am but an anonymity to its own being. So lately had I come to the stirring truth that a score shall always be that, and shall never renew itself.

Each overture of that sickness, I am now bound to take unequal understanding. If I fall hard -- with pointed rocks to seize me from below -- I always take four years to recover. Four years.
To recover misery, but never to cure my revolting blindness.

Now, I had to lift myself up, and derive beauty from inkless pens and scratched papers. That is where I began to dismantle the soreness that I thought would never evade my memory.

Delusional. Insane. Ardent to know nothing but to see through errors, and not live without them.
And with these, I fashioned my new self.

Never to grow up, but has lived ages of creativity.