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Prose: As Time Goes

Darius is a former high school literary and feature writer that loves reading books, listening to music, and watching movies.

Artwork by Muhammad Nafay via Walli

Artwork by Muhammad Nafay via Walli

It took 30 years for me to understand that I was incapable of love. But it didn't start that way. In fact, I've loved people my whole life. Yet those same people didn't seem to return them back, not in the way I expected and deserved. Maybe there was something wrong with me, or maybe with them. Some reasons are often unexplainable, and there are some things that I may never know.

It took you 20 years to find your love. It wasn't planned out. Planning in life is planning for failure, you said. Maybe they just couldn't see the beauty of your heart, or hear the loudest songs from its beats, or feel the warmth of your wonders. I took you in because we seem to understand each other and we built a relationship we couldn't even name. We just couldn't find a suitable label. We were glued in our ideas of sticking together, like a drug we both had to take after not having for a long time. An addiction without proper guidance; a toxicity that we both benefited. And we didn't think about it ever since; we didn't think about everything ever since. Because we had each other, in a seemingly endless cycle of filling each others' abysmal gaps.

And when you finally left to look for your own better path, I was reminded of the past 30 years I've lived in this unforgiving gamble of a world. That maybe we could've tried. That maybe we could've risked. That maybe I was the one you ought to find. That maybe I was wrong with being incapable of loving someone.

© 2020 Darius Razzle Paciente

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