Q: Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, thinking.

Too many times.

I don't know if I should tell her. Just let the cat out of the bag. Then I will feel better. But no. Everything else that I came to know of is a messy puzzle. A 180 degrees spin. I am torn between obligation, hope, and safeguarding. No one outweighs the other. I can hear the walls of my principles crumbling at its foundation. Sorry, it is my disorientated thoughts at work again. Maybe, just maybe, it's the weather. For once, I can't say for sure.

Telling is easy, or perhaps it never really has been. There is a constant fear of telling too much, or too little. To cause doubt and to enlighten of danger. Wanting to see things fall apart and to only rebuild them with your hands, yet there is a crises of conscious. A voice, no wait...two? No idea; but they bicker with extremities on what road to take when I reach a fork.

Friends, I am not schizophrenic. It's a sign of me brainstorming. It is better to let them out here. I am apologetic for the fact you had to read this. That's for certain. I sense worry and confusion in your head. Don't worry. I will be okay. It is times like this when I have to throw them out before the motherboard burns.

I thank the fact that not many people know about this blog.

With much contemplation, I decided to take "the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference." Robert Frost. It's been a while.

The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

My reality is different than your's.
Vonnie S.

Credits: Home and the Fairies by zancan