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      The Sad Story of Cupid and Psyche

     


I am psyche,†30. I am now married (happily, I guess), though this story is not about my hubby. It is a wonderful tale that happened once upon a time.††



Many would be thinking why the hell am I writing about a past love. I often have dreams about a man Ė I call him Cupid - but it was just recently that I dreamt about him several times, and it really bothered me. In my dreams, he was almost within my reach but was gone the moment I had realized he was there. I always wake up miserable and heart-broken. I cannot forget the dream for several days, and when I had gotten over it, I would dream about him again. I had tried to bury him in the innermost part of my superego; however, he still emerges from time to time.† I guess I cannot just suppress a very beautiful Ė yet painful Ė romance that took place a long time ago. So I decided to let it out by weaving a tale about it.†



It should have been true love. It was platonic and pure; it was deep and intense; it was gentle and honest. Something took place between us that we did not have to talk about, that we did not have to put into words. It just blossomed, and we just felt and savor it. We never kissed, nor held hands, nor embraced. But it was like kissing him everyday whenever I smell his perfume; it was as if we were holding hands whenever I hear his voice; it was like embracing him whenever I look at his eyes. Itís as if our hearts could talk and understand each other.†



It was almost perfect. ALMOST. But he was 17 and I was 21. And he was my student. †



It was my first year of teaching. Our beginning was quite hazy to me. I think it all started through a childish and corny chain letter. Anyone who received the letter has to recopy and send it to seven Ďspecialí people, and also gave each an angel figurine, and the cycle goes on. Cupid was a quiet and respectful student who seldom speaks. I was surprised to receive a chain letter from him. Being a teacher, I do not want my students to spend on unnecessary things so I ignored it and discouraged them on spreading the letter. One day, Cupidís friends teased me that he was so eager of finding the perfect angel figurine to give me. I just smiled when he blushed and this time, I noticed him from a different view. A few days later, he gave me a Cupid figurine and everything changed since then, especially when the rest of his classmates started teasing him. But instead of being embarrassed, he became different. He turned into an active and funny student full of life. I was so happy for him, happy and flattered that I was part of that great change. †



He and his friends started accompanying me on my way home. It was then that I realized that the kids I scowled at and scorned in the mornings during classes were young adults who had different visions and dreams in life. I learned a lot from them and in the process got closer to Cupid, whom I considered the most mature of them (sounds like I want to justify). One day, his friends had other activities to do so he was the only one to go along with me in going home. He had so many stories to tell, making me laugh my heart out along the way. These interactions were repeated until he is the only one who comes with me every afternoon, except weekends. We became friends. Then I broke up with my boyfriend when he started getting jealous and mad at my students. I didnít care if he was devastated. I didnít care if we have been together for three years. I didnít care at anything at all because for the first time, I am really, truly happy.†



Cupid and I had been together during several school activities and as I watch his every move, I admired him. His ways made me dream of finding a man that would be as respectful and gentle as he was (and is). He is a gentleman in its true sense. He pulled chairs and opened doors for women; he knew when to speak and when to listen; he respected everyone and didnít argue with anyone.†



After almost a month of wonderful conversations with Cupid every time I walked home, I started to feel lonely every Friday afternoons because I will not be seeing him again for two days. I kept this to myself and tried to push the thoughts away. I was surprised one Friday when he told me that if he could just erase Saturdays and Sundays on the calendar, he would do so, and that he had never loved Mondays in his life as much as he did at that time. I was silenced and just gave him a weak smile. Why in the world would I feel the same way as he did? Why did we like the same songs? Why did I laugh at his tiniest jokes? Why did I feel like we have known each other for many, many years? Why can I talk to him without pretention? Why do I hear my heartbeat every time he speaks? He later asked the same questions to me, and I refused to answer.†



It was then that I realized what it all meant, and where that Ďmadnessí could lead. I know that what I was feeling would lead to nothing but grief, but I did not stop. I was happy when we are together, period. So despite our teacher-student relationship, we still continued to be special friends. He was my student the whole day, but after classes, he was my Cupid. We did not talk about how we felt for each other but just took pleasure in each otherís presence. I had doubts, yes. But the hell I care if he is just a kid trying to fool his cradle-snatching teacher. I didnít care at anything at all because I am really, truly happy.†



On my birthday, he gave me a book of flowers and a card, addressing me as Psyche. I suppressed a giggle and the impulse to blush and hug him.† And then after Christmas, we had a date. We dined out and watched a movie. I knew it was out of bounds but I also knew that my happiness will not last long for he will soon be graduating, and that I had to savor every moment with him. We went into our house afterwards and I introduced him to my mom as one of my students. That day was one of my happiest, but I never made him know that. From the very beginning, I always treat him as my student, although inside I wanted to burst with all my covered up feelings. We parted ways that day in a perfect bliss (I was). And that was the last time that he talked to me as my Cupid. He left me a beautiful lamp as a Christmas present.†



When classes resumed in January, he was very different. He went back to being my student. He never talked nor looked at me anymore. He never accompanied me during afternoons. I cannot ask his friends why he changed for I feel awkward and they also do not have any idea at all. They thought that we are still friends and still see one another. I sent him my Christmas gift, a compilation of all the poems I wrote, with him as my inspiration. He never said thank you, nor gave a note, nor sent a word. Not a hint that he had received what I gave. We only see each other during classes, and it was always painful for me. But I waited and waited and waited. Every afternoon, I will stand at the same place we used to talk, waiting for his scent to fill the air, for his laughter to fill my ears. But he never came.†



He only approached me on his graduation day. He gave me a hug and thanked me for everything, as his teacher. He never gave any explanation on what made him indifferent towards me after that Christmas date. I returned his embrace Ė as his teacher - though it was excruciating. I forced a smile and walked away.†



I had to move on and just tried to forget what transpired between us. I told myself that it was my entire fault - that I made things up, that I assumed too much. I did not blame him nor felt any anger toward him. He was just a teenager looking for affection and I took advantage of that. It was my mistake because I made myself believe in something that isnít there. I took all the blame and the pain. The only consolation I had was the fact that at least I felt that certain level of happiness when we were still††together.†



When I looked back at those times, all I can see was a confused young lady. I still do not understand why that lady chose to go through such struggle when she already knew from the start that her illusions were all part of a fantasy. She should have asked Cupid why he changed. She should have tried to find out his reasons. She should have told him that she was hurting. She should have shown him her true feelings. But she didnít. And it was her fault that I still keep dreaming about Cupid. She left me so many unanswered questions that are quite impossible to be answered at present. Cupid was, is and will always be a part of me. And I wanted to keep him in my treasure box without all the regrets and the questions and the pain. Donít get me wrong, I donít have regrets marrying my husband, ours is a different tale. But Cupid is a memory worth keeping for the rest of my life.††

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