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Have you ever gotten yourself so wrapped up in a moment in which you came so close to something you desire, so close that maybe, just maybe, with a little more time to think it out, you could have captured it and closed the door on its elusiveness? And in that one moment you came so close that your mind reels in circles until it seems nothing else exists but that one moment in which you let your one chance slip away. Oh, if only we could have all just gotten that extra time for our moment; what could have happened? What sort of potential could have been released? Limitless possibilities of love, success and happiness? Or was there a greater reason for our failures in those capsule instants of procurable bliss that once seemed so vivid, but now look fuzzy and faded in the back of our addled minds, like something that never occured at all, like a foggy vision or a half-forgotten dream? Could it be that our success could have been our downfall? Could it have brought us misery, hate and lonliness? Perhaps.

But then I wonder why my brush with my one moment of chance has left me feeling so empty when success never occurred at all, and in fact, it is all I can think of. If only I could have reached out and grazed even the most shallow pools of it, maybe another moment would have been in the palm of my hand. But I let the water run through my fingers and that instant ran through with it and now it is unobtainable, floating downstream with the millions of other opportunities that have slipped through the fingers of every other person who left their thoughts unsaid in a moment that could have been the catylst of an explosion.. what that explosion contained, we'll never know; we can only wave to it bittersweetly as it floats away, down the stream of our conciousness.

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We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to. - W. Somerset Maugham


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The following comments are for "They Are Not Past; They Define Us"
by BelleMorland





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