My Love Story: Part 2 of 2

The quote for this post was supposed to tell you the fourth meaning of the word ‘Butterfly’ to me, but I decided against it. Some things are just too heavy to part with.

Give sincerely. Give hard. Give all.
So you won’t regret one day that you did not give enough.

Sue is perfect. She carries about her the beauty of innocence and the naiveté of a four-year-old that makes boys ached to hold her and protect her from everything. She would listen to me untiringly as if there is nothing else in the world she would rather do. She is saintly, and there were more times than I can count when she would drag me out in my Vitara and go around town, feeding stray puppies and kittens after dark (even though she’s terribly frightened of anything with four legs that moves). She always, always forgives. She cannot keep grudges however resolutely she wants to because she keeps forgetting them. She is witty¹. She can sing so divinely well that it always give me that warm fuzz that grows from the depth of my chest the same way some people felt ‘touched’ in churches. She plays the piano as naturally as she breathes. She would try cooking for me even though she hardly ever spent any time in the kitchen before. She has infectious laughing fits that would last up to an hour, forcing me to laugh helplessly along. She’s intimate, and she could build a world apart for just the two of us where there’s no room left for any other. And when she loved me, she made me feel as if she can love no one more completely

Sue is perfection. What can a boy do but fall?

I’ve been rejected a thousand times – each time more bitter than the time before it – but never once did I not get up and try again. She told me that there is no chance at all that she would like me that way. She told me it was impossible. She told me to stop wasting my time.

One story kept my head up. It was the ancient Greek tale of Pandora and the Box;

I'll spare you the details if you haven't already know this. Pandora, the first woman had a box she was warned never to open, but all of us know that no woman can resist not knowing about something she can easily find out. Needless today, Pandora did the exact thing she was forbidden to do and released Misery, Sorrow, Suffering, Famine and all other assorted bad-ass stuff that the ancient Greeks could think of into the world. The last thing that flew out of the box was Hope, a frail, glassy-winged creature that shines in places where no other light shines. In my mind, I’ve always imagined Hope to be a butterfly.

And I learned that there is nothing big or dark enough in this world that can kill Hope.

"One of these days
I won't be afraid of staying with you
I hope and I pray
Waiting to find a way back to you
Cause that's where I'm home"

Michelle Branch, One of These Days (2003),

This is our song – Sue’s and mine

Being truly in love can make someone a better person – especially if you’re in love with someone as Perfect as Sue is. I cursed myself every single day that I was not good enough for her – and I did the only thing that made sense to me then;

I must make myself good enough.

The poems, the writings I’ve done in class to impress her, short stories just for her that let her know just how much I’ve longed for her – I just wanted to be good enough for her. Everything I did had changed me forever. Little habits I picked up from her, phrases I use, the certain way she would think of anything - they would surface as my own too frequently for me to not notice. The very person I am exists because I love Sue. Every beat of my heart, for as long as I’m alive, is a monument to that. That’s too late to change now.

I followed Sue to Taylor’s, so I can be constantly near her. By that time, I’ve already taken it into my mind that I would follow her and protect her wherever she would go – only I haven’t the slightest clue on how to go about doing that when I’m only a ‘just a friend’.

There was a time when Sue’s friends’ thought I was a stalker, and she was warned to be careful of me because I might try to do something indescribable to her. What could I do but grin and bear it? It hurt terribly to be thought that I was a nut-job, and I was afraid Sue would think the same; but she didn’t. She trusted me unquestioningly. She trusted me because I was her best friend. She trusted me because… oh, that sweet, sweet naivety of hers! And I did not disappoint.

Looking back, I know now that I was indeed insane. Love is a malady of the mind that goes against reason. Love is madness of the sweetest and bitterest kind.

At that time, two years have gone by since the day she walked into June Yong’s small, cramped tuition class. Two years I’ve asked her daily if she would accept me, and love me back – and daily, I was turned down. Two years I’ve been breathing Sue instead of air with nothing in my hand but a very much-worn Hope clutched with all my heart and strength.

So afraid I was that it would fly away.

"But time has changed
Nothing at all
You're still the only one that feels like home
I've tried cutting the ropes
And I let you go
But you're still the only one that feels like home"

Missy Higgins, Ten Days (2004)

One evening, Sue and I were studying in the library – a routine we both enjoyed, and I, more than she did. I remember it was frigid, but I’m not someone that feels the bite of cold that easily.

But Sue was.

“My fingers are freezing!” Sue complained, rubbing her cold, white digits - but that did no good.

That moment, I did the unthinkable, yet the only natural thing I could have done; I reached over and grasped her hand with mine.

“Does this feel better?” I asked. I did not sound it, but there were explosions going off so loudly in my brain that I could not even hear what I said. I think it was my heart.

“Why are your hands always so warm?” she asked me back.

“So I can keep yours warm,” I told her and turned back to the notes I have sprawled all over my desk, but I found that I had suddenly lost the ability to read. No words were spoken, because both of us already knew everything that can be said.

That evening in the library, I knew she’s mine.

"And you, maybe you'll remember me
What I gave is yours to keep"

Vanessa Carlton, White Houses (2004)

I dedicate this story to Boys Who Have Met Their Sues and Swore to Never Let Go.

End of Part 2 of 2

p.s. Don’t make the same mistake I did. I let go, less than three years later. My misery, my pain, my sorrows – and Sue’s – I’m the cause of it all. I let go when I shouldn’t. It’s my fault. I broke us up. Just thought I'd let you know just how stupid I am.

Because there were happier times,
k0k s3n w4i

¹ Her Shu Qi Cantonese routine can kill me with laughter.