A Prose to You
By: RDV
He was a party-goer; she was just a social retard that could use a little fine tuning.
He had at first sight set her down for a loser. She was, she knew, on all accounts. The line was drawn. It could never be crossed. For them, the barrier stayed alive, strong, rational.
But it melted. The wall crumbled, was put down and what the ruins revealed were two people, alone and needy.
Somehow, he found his way to her. It was purely accidental. She accepted him. There started a dull, if not tumultuous, relationship.
Predictably, it ceased through boredom, being fed up, or just simply through common sense. They couldn’t stand each other in a number of ways. It was undeniable.
The separation lasted long enough for them to put behind them those episodes. Both moved on after much self-derision; both plunged into oblivion, never devoting a thought to that one bad patch of their life, their relationship. He sank back to his former dolce vita and rampant wilderness; she went back to her sheltered, undeniably monotonous, party-pooping life. Neither dared look back on his/her shoulder. What ended had ended for good.
Or so they thought.
Over the years she’d had a peaceful life, until one day she received the doctor’s diagnosis. It was cancer. Yes, the cells were belligerent. Yes, there was large potential that it was at its mortal stage. Yes, she should make decisions that she thought she’d never make for so long as she lived. Life and death, and the gray area in between.
She opted to call him, after all those years. He was really the only friend she knew. He agreed to meet at a restaurant down Makati. When he came, she realized how loyally his youth abode by him still; he looked like as he had seven years ago, whereas she was now nothing like the picture of purity and freshness that she used to be. It almost embarrassed her to face him again, in this unrecognizable state.
He hadn’t settled down yet, which was a surprise to her. It wasn’t a surprise to him, on the other hand, that she’d chosen spinsterhood. He never gave her that much credit anyway.
She told him eventually, about the disease, about the imminence of death and everything. He paused for a considerable while. There was an eerie blank on his face. Finally he looked at her straight in the eye and said the words,
“Live, live to love me.”
He was a party-goer; she was just a social retard that could use a little fine tuning.
He had at first sight set her down for a loser. She was, she knew, on all accounts. The line was drawn. It could never be crossed. For them, the barrier stayed alive, strong, rational.
But it melted. The wall crumbled, was put down and what the ruins revealed were two people, alone and needy.
Somehow, he found his way to her. It was purely accidental. She accepted him. There started a dull, if not tumultuous, relationship.
Predictably, it ceased through boredom, being fed up, or just simply through common sense. They couldn’t stand each other in a number of ways. It was undeniable.
The separation lasted long enough for them to put behind them those episodes. Both moved on after much self-derision; both plunged into oblivion, never devoting a thought to that one bad patch of their life, their relationship. He sank back to his former dolce vita and rampant wilderness; she went back to her sheltered, undeniably monotonous, party-pooping life. Neither dared look back on his/her shoulder. What ended had ended for good.
Or so they thought.
Over the years she’d had a peaceful life, until one day she received the doctor’s diagnosis. It was cancer. Yes, the cells were belligerent. Yes, there was large potential that it was at its mortal stage. Yes, she should make decisions that she thought she’d never make for so long as she lived. Life and death, and the gray area in between.
She opted to call him, after all those years. He was really the only friend she knew. He agreed to meet at a restaurant down Makati. When he came, she realized how loyally his youth abode by him still; he looked like as he had seven years ago, whereas she was now nothing like the picture of purity and freshness that she used to be. It almost embarrassed her to face him again, in this unrecognizable state.
He hadn’t settled down yet, which was a surprise to her. It wasn’t a surprise to him, on the other hand, that she’d chosen spinsterhood. He never gave her that much credit anyway.
She told him eventually, about the disease, about the imminence of death and everything. He paused for a considerable while. There was an eerie blank on his face. Finally he looked at her straight in the eye and said the words,
“Live, live to love me.”
posted by Ria D. at
9:43 PM
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