Epilogue

One of the most difficult virtues I lack in preserving it's essence is the paramount relationship between acceptance and letting go. I've dealt with a vague notion of keeping my heart cemented with a concrete wall of teenage relationships, without venturing beyond the closeted hallway of love. 

I found writing eventually, or perhaps, it has found me. Having stuck to the tussle between my highs and lows amid nothing as static as what I thought love was, I couldn't essentially incorporate it's otherwise portrayal. 

'Transfiguration, a stroll down the rugged terrain of life' isn't just an overused link between the sanctity of deploying your heart to someone else and yourself, but a slow and steady breed of an individual through the uncharted enclave of first loves, heartbreaks, kisses, hookups, sex, realizations, self esteem and the merry-go-round days; pungent in taste, evoking a keen sense of regret. Nonetheless, transfiguration is a phase of growth directed towards shambles and disarrayed layers of life haphazardly placed on top of each other, but is these predicaments and rollercoaster moments ever beautiful. 

This is to an end of a teenage epoch or an era.

This is to mapping my past, discovering the moment and surging up the excitement to explore the wonders of tomorrow. 

This is to a metamorphosis. This is to myself, before I turn seventeen, step inside the tunnel of being a sophomore and celebrate my pre legality. 

This is to life, cheers!