I don’t know if my parents read this blog, hell I don’t even know if they know I blog. After all, throughout my secondary school days I have always been one to quickly condemn the practice of blogging, and though I soon saw the merits, I doubt my parents know otherwise. It matters because, I have no idea if my parents actually know how much I have changed over the past year. Gosh, not even I can wrap my head around my evolution (dare I say devolution) over such a short time. Four years trapped in a reality so distant and detatched from normality indoctriated an alarming lack of social awareness, an unhealthy obsession with academia and a knack for electronics. Emerging from this sheltered bay into the rough ocean meant I had to grow up fast, but in the eyes of my parents, they still view me as their youngest and dearest, the filial son with such promise, the rock they can depend on in their golden ears. Do they know how much I have changed? After all, given the amount of affection they still shower on me, one could be forgiven for thinking that to them, I am still the prepubescent apple of their eyes, always present for a cuddle or a kiss. Sure, one must venture out into the ocean of life and seek to break new ground, to explore new frontiers. But sometimes the elements overwhelm you, and you long for the calm and serenity of that sheltered bay. Yet the shore always seems so distant, and out on the ocean, home could be a very alien concept. Sometimes, one just needs to put a pin to the rubber skin of the little dhingy out in the middle of an unforgiving ocean, and let the waves drown away your sorrows.

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