…And immediately, the year was again two-thousand and six, and I had just ended the most meaningful relationship in my life so far. The one girl (the adolescent in me will still call her “the one girl”) in my life who I dare say I loved, though it were a childish toy of love that teens are want to go through. At such a drastic affect of heart, I would embark on a new direction, relocating and re-strategising my chosen path. Only this time I had gained my principles and my perspective on life that made me who i was. I could see my vision clearly, I stared at it as vividly as a Poloriod photograph, and the colour of it was befitting to the year which it preceded. Two-thousand and five was arguably my memory’s fondest year of cool summers and mid-paced life that never ran too quickly. It was practically an easy year. And the experiences with which it held gained my highest pleasures. Such was I given to the pleasures that I carelessly took them for granted and presumed every subsequent year would be alike, that I, at that time, had any control of such pleasure that I could take it with me. This naively hurled me in to the two-thousand and six which I lived then, the lowest and darkest year I can recall. And out of that I had such rare experiences that I became the greatest asset of my life. In these six years, I seem to have climbed the same arduous journey which had Dante, experiencing two years to each realm, I had conquered my inferno, purgatorio, and paradiso, and where I had arrived to felt to continue my journey from the year I had such colour and gladness.