There lives two tales for the namesake of this blog. The first lies in the meaning of flowers.

Flowers are symbolic entities. They range from romantic roses to floating lily pads. Yet, what symbolism could they possibly hold to a male. Especially from an early age?

There was once a book, written long ago and most likely swept under the rug of time. It was called "Flowers for Algernon" by Daniel Keyes. It was a touching novel, one written in a diary like way, much akin and very similar to "The curious incident of the dog in the night-time" by Mark Haddon. It told a story of a mentally disabled person, who through experimental science, became a genius. He became intelligent beyond anyone's imagination. The book showed the effects of rapid maturity - the isolation of over-achievement and the confusion of having a mental maturity beyond your emotional maturity.

Yet, the part that struck me most was that although he saw the superficiality of the people around him, the thing that hurt him most was that as he displayed his flair, the person he loved most began to suffer self-doubt. The person he loved progressively felt more and more inferior and distant. He took it upon himself and after his love told him of her self-doubt, he began to hope that he would one day regress. Fortunately for him the experimental science did lose effect and he slowly grew "dumber". He was happier that way, the world was simpler, easier to understand.

Yet, despite this, he had pushed his love away and there was nothing he could do to amend it.

The world "Flowers" in my name is a tribute to this novel and it's interpretation of mental and emotional growth.

No one ever hopes to shadow over those they care for. Yet no one ever wishes to be powerless for those they care for. Sometimes it is not how hard you try to succeed, rather, how hard you consider.