walking atop short, gray walls...

in a perfect world, i would be in sixth grade, all sweaty, even smelly like my other playmates but unaware that i was having the grandest time.

this was the most beautiful period of my life where not a whiff of prejudice, social class or difference in sexuality was ever present. My playgroup was a team in the real essence of the word, united, without regards to color of skin or money inside our pockets or family background. We never really understood why we were able to bond together though. There were enough differences to assume we would never be a solid team. But during our free time we found ourselves playing tag, hide and seek, eating together and squealing at each other's miserable test scores. the immeasurable joy of running and climbing through monkeybars and the big slide, the tears over scraped knees and bruised shins, the thrill of the chase and the disregard for toning down the volume of our shouts was a sensation that no other experience can ever come close...

it was also a time of my life when i thought i was going to fall into the arms of my crush and live together with him for all time. i suffered the agony of blushing when he would sit beside me, the torture of friends screaming when he would come within short distance of the group, and the anguish of my grades falling miserably into unfathomable lows after long nights of thoughts of him..

it was also a time of my life surprisingly where I became a little distant from my family. the hours at school had made me looked forward to staying longer simply because of the irresistible temptation of long hours of playtime during class dismissals, which gave me lesser time at home. there was less interaction with siblings, and cousins, that pretty much i almost became a stranger at home. even when with family, i would feel shy when i would run into classmates in the mall or some public place because i would feel because i was not with friends it was a bit unusual...

in this page of the book of my life, you will see the petal of an unknown flower. its color has faded but the smell embraces the whole literary creation of my existence...