Time Heals What Love And Reason Cannot – Page 17

A Penny For Your Thoughts, Fairy's Tale, Time Heals What Love And Reason Cannot

Monarch of my own kingdom

November 19, 2009 10 Comments

Would you believe me if I told you that I am a monarch of my own kingdom? Say, an empress who rule a beautiful and peaceful land and I get to kick butts freely and nobody would say a word about it? And people tell me that I rock the world and I look beautiful all the time? Would you believe it? No?

Well, I don’t believe it myself too, but it’s all possible when you can ‘create’ your own world through writing. Fantasy of what we could never be will be lost when we grow older and more realistic as well as materialistic things occupied our minds. But if we put our fantasy through writing, the dreams and fantasy as an innocent child would forever be immortalized as long as the eyes can see.

I started writing fictions ever since I was a little girl. I was 11 years old when I wrote my first ‘novel’. It was written on a thick, hardback, pink coloured exercise book that I bought from the stationary store nearby my primary school. It costs me RM3.50, an amount that was very big for me back then, because my father did not give me much pocket money when I was a primary school student. I bought it secretly because if my parents knew what the book was for, I’d be screwed.

Why would I be screwed, you ask me? Well, elementary my dear readers. It was because my father and mother did not encourage writing such things. Writing composition for homeworks are fine with them, but not novel length fictions. They thought it was a waste of time. They wanted me to study maths and science, and those stuff that they taught in school instead. I would probably be slaughtered by my parents and it’ll make a nasty scene where even the most bloodthirsty murderer would puke at the gory details if they found out what I did for fun back then.

But I did not let their discouragement and threats affect my little hobby. Besides, there’s little fun a sickly child like me could have. I was terrible in sports as I often get asthma attacks, and faints easily too. I was excused from all school assemblies, even, as the teachers were probably scared that I’ll die on them or something. It was growing pains, I didn’t get to do many things for fun, but I found joy in writing, where everything was possible and I am in charge of everything. That was probably the only thing I was good at anyway.

I wrote and scribbled on the precious fancy exercise book by using ballpoint pens during my free time and even during recess. Friends and classmates started to get curious and nosy, seeing me so immersed in writing, and I was asked to show them what I was doing. I was reluctant at first, as I feared that they would report to the prefects and soon my little treasure would be confiscated. But it did not happen. Other things happened. Wonderful things that I never even imagined in the first place.

My friends and classmates read my story and got hooked on it. They were interested in what would happen to the characters in the story and if the story will have a happily ever after or not. And so, I would write a bit by bit, and then would pass the book around for them to read each time I updated the story.(Sometimes, I wish there was such thing as Internet back then, it would have made my life easier and less complicated!)

My friends and classmates genuine interest my writing boosts my confidence, no kidding. And I made even more efforts to make the story interesting, and with less grammatical errors. After a few months of writing installments to my stories where it will be ‘reviewed’ by friends and classmates alike, I finally managed to finish my first ‘teenage adventure’ novel with the title ‘The Mysterious Attic’. I may not have published it, but my ‘fangirls’ made photocopies of the exercise book that I wrote the story.

I was embarrassed at first, but they told me it was a story worth keeping. They said the story was one of a kind, something they would never be able to buy from the bookstores. A friend who was good in drawing made covers for the photocopied version of the book and had me signed it. It was a nice childhood memories, and little did I know, professional authors around the world did similar things- signing their books. If only I knew back then, it would have boost my bloody ego and self confidence.

Truth be told. I am not sure if ‘The Mysterious Attic’ was a good story. I could hardly remember the story myself. All I could remember is that the story is about a young girl who found a gold pendant with little mirror on it while cleaning the old attic in her grandmother’s house, and was transported to a mysterious world. She found her greatest adventure and learn about love, friendship and sacrifices along the way. That’s all I could remember. I wonder if I could rewrite the story the same way. I doubt I could. After all it was my brainchild when I was younger. It would be different if I were to write it again.

By the way, a friend of mine made different covers for each photocopies of the book, and though I’ve lost touch with her, I wonder if she ever became a graphic designer, as she was so passionate in arts and could produce beautiful drawings even though she was just 11 years old back then.

It was unfortunate for me that my mother threw away the book when she found out about it two years later, when I was 13 years old. She accused me of fantasizing about boys and whatnot and thought the book was just my ‘coded diary’.

Naturally, I was upset with her action, but did not made any effort to argue with her, because I was scared to death of my father. What’s more, it would have been pointless, as I would be punished anyway regardless of my explanation.

And so, even though my first masterpiece was gone it did not stop me from writing more stories; on cheaper exercise books though, cuz I couldn’t afford anymore fancy, hardcover notebooks. I stashed my next handwritten stories away behind my revision bookshelves, and my mother never did found them til this very day.

Anyway, that was how I started to appreciate English language and literature and found the real use of dictionary and thesaurus. Writing your own stories are not a waste of time, though my parents would have me believed that back then. It taught me something that could never be taught by the teachers in school or any books in history. It taught you perseverance,creativity, patience, discipline, elusiveness and most importantly, passion. It is pure joy. At least for me.

I didn’t stop writing as I grew older, though I did went on hiatus for 3 years as horrible author’s block hits me. When I was introduced to the wonderful world of Internet, I began submitting my works for various fiction sites, and geo people from around the world to comment and criticize my work. I even copyrighted them so that they wouldn’t be stolen too as I go further along. The best part of technology is that it repelled my mother and father from throwing away my works, as I usually password protect my works, and I have back ups everywhere on the net.

Years passed by, I grew up and I don’t write fiction all the time anymore. I now write fiction only once or twice a year and my bloody production for novels and short stories went down terribly. I found newer kind of joy; social networking and blogging, and I figured that blogging is a good form of writing too.

Blogging made me feel happy too, as it is a reminder on how free and lucky I am to be able to enjoy delivering my thoughts, real life stories and opinions throughout the world. Writing entries for my blog affords me a chance every day to just sit and reflect my thoughts. I live in a city, with lots of rat race and fast moving things. I love where I live, and if I were to be tossed into some village, I would have probably suicide out of boredom.

I really love the city, but I also think it’s important to sit and be quiet with yourself and your thoughts. Blogging and writing for me is very meditative and calming, and helps to give me some sort of inner peace, though not that much.

Writing and blogging always reminded me of how liberated and lucky I am. I am lucky that I am able to use technology to have myself heard. And lucky enough to be educated and literate while some other people in the world are still trapped in poverty and conservative world where knowledge is pretty limited to them. Indeed, I am lucky.

But I mourn the fact that governments all around the world feel threatened by the written words. Writers who live in these countries are persecuted and imprisoned, their writing censored, their lives threatened every day,simply because they love to do what you and I love to do: write and express themselves and probably told ugly truths about the governments in questions.

Reading and writing therefore,become a constant reminder of how very fortunate I am. It also becomes a challenge to you, to me, to all of us: to face the fact that not all people are free, lucky and liberated as we are, and we have to work to change that, and made our voice and opinion be heard.

Cleffairy: Be a monarch of you own kingdom, for there’s much to learn. And please, do support you children’s hobbies if they are not destructive. You would never know that their hobbies might become their career one day.

On a lighter note, Paylessbok sale is back in YMCA, KL. If you like to read and wants to encourage your children to read, you might want to check it out.

Venue: 1st Floor, YMCA KL, 95, Jalan Padang Belia,

Off Jalan Tun Sambanthan, Kuala Lumpur

Please click HERE for further details:

Date: 20 – 22 November 2009 (Friday – Sunday)

Time: 10:00am – 7:00pm

ps: If any of the ‘friends’ and ‘classmates’ that I mentioned here happened to still have a photocopy of my work, would you please kindly email me at cleffairy@gmail.com? I really would like to see my first work again.

A Penny For Your Thoughts, Fairy's Tale, Time Heals What Love And Reason Cannot

Finding my lost memories…

November 11, 2009 23 Comments

As of late, I am not doing so well, and I began to wonder, why and when did my started to become so difficult, so complicated, and so many expectations to fulfill. And so many people I need to impress and I am burdened with so many responsibilities that sometimes is not even mine on my shoulder. I feel that sometimes it is too much that I can bursts, or even having an emotional breakdown.

I wanted to write about politics, relationship, or even bigger things that matters, but I found that I couldn’t. At least, not now, though there are many issues that is plaguing my mind. I needed time to reflect, on where my future lies. On whether I should carry on living like an empty shell, or should I stop and start to make myself happy instead of others.

I kept thinking of the times where I used to indulge myself with small things that makes my happiness worthwhile. Back then, happiness is not something hard to achieve. Happiness did not slip through my fingers all the time and was not short-lived back then. I had not much money then, but I did not worry. I had problems then, but it was easily solved. Unlike now. Things gets complicated and how I’m supposed to unravel it, is still a mystery.

These days, I feel as if there’s missing pieces in me. Something that is not quite right, and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t put words into it. Some part of me is missing.I did not know what it was.

Then, last night, when I was listening to some songs that I probably have listened a million times a few years back, I realized what it was.

I grew up, I matured, and therefore, I lost some part of me in the process. Important part of me. While I realize that there is no way in hell I will be able to collect the shattered missing pieces of my life , I pine for the times where life was so simple and I have low expectation on everything. I was carefree, and above all, I was not so sacrificial. I do things that makes myself happy.I balanced between my responsibilities and my own happiness. I did well back then.

I did not give a damn on what people say or think about me. I really wonder why it is so hard to do now. And I wonder why did I changed so much… after all, it’s not even 2 years yet since I last felt so contented, happy and carefree. Back then, I feel like I’m on top of the world, though I’m on lows. But now, I feel like in the pit of hell even when I’m on top.

Perhaps, I should stop trying to impress others. Then only I would be happy. Perhaps, I shouldn’t give a damn about people, then only I’d be contented. Isn’t it stupid to care for people who wouldn’t even bother to give a damn about you and only find faults in you every time they crossed pass with you. Isn’t it a waste of time, effort and breath, trying to impress such people? Why bother trying to be in people’s good books when they won’t even bother to see the good you have done?

Maybe all of me is not lost, as I managed to remember how I was like 2 years back. My brain worked like a diary last night and I find myself smiling at those wonderful moments that made me feel that what becomes of the world and the people in it doesn’t matter anymore.

Perhaps, just perhaps, all is not lost. Perhaps, all I need to do is find my lost memories, revive it, relive it and things will be better once again.

I wonder, how many of you out there found yourself in my predicament at some point in my life? Did you ever come across someone who asked you what changed you, and you shurgs them off, telling them these…

“Life happened.”

“Love happened.”

“Marriage happened.”

“Children happened.”

“Family happened.”

“In laws happened.”

“Financial problems happened.”

and so the list goes on…

Anyway,this entry, is for those people who are responsible making my memories whole. This is for all of you… people in my life, 2 years back. You know who you are.Â I’ll treasure you and cherish you, for as long I could.

Cleffairy: I grew up, and I lost an important part myself in the process. Perhaps, this is a good time to find myself again.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvWWDZuQUKE]

The song is Tower of The Goddess- Memories of Ossyria.

I dedicate this song to you people who made a part of my life wonderful. This is for you people in FantasyStars, Griffindor, Celestial, HeavennHell. This is especially for Seng, Francesca, Uncle Pui, PetPetgirl, Simplysimson, Starsecrets, Sorlo and Sorpo. This is for all of you. Thank you for being a part of my memories and making part of my life worth living.

ps: Don’t you just missed the time where we had to listen to this song over and over again until we could vomit blood? LOL… I miss those times.

A Penny For Your Thoughts, Fairy's Tale, Time Heals What Love And Reason Cannot

Why I Love My Cat

November 2, 2009 14 Comments

Usually, I don’t do random entries that will sound pathetic and childish like this. But I am very much in need for a writing therapy at the moment, because I am not happy and definitely feeling down. I’ve been through a lot this year, and I can definitely say that this is one of my worst year ever.

Too many things happened, and I sometimes wished for that there’s more than 24 hours a day. Time is simply not enough, and I tend to wonder if I am having a post traumatic stress, seeing how often I feel so down and depressed since the fire happened.

Long long time ago, I never like any animals to keep as pet. Most of them stinks and smell like poo all the time, and not to mention if it’s a feline or a canine, they need treatments and grooming pretty often too.

I adopted a stray kitten 3 month ago. I did not even know why I brought it home. I really did not know why. It’s not even cute to even begin with. The kitty, whom I called Meow Meow looks like a New Zealand dairy cow with the patchy black fur. But I suppose it is fate that Meow Meow comes to live with me for me and my entire family owe her our lives. To cut the story short, she saved us from the fire that burned down my house on 18th July 2008- four days after I brought her home. I suppose, she’s pretty much godsent.

I was no animal lover, but I came to realize that pets could bring so much joy and serenity to the soul. I used to think that cats are stupid creature that vomits furball everywhere and poop around, but boy was I wrong. My kitty learned to use the toilet all by herself, and all I need to do was just flush the toilet each time she poop or pee. She’s pretty clever for a not so cute kitten.

There’s a few things that I noticed about Meow Meow. Among them is she loves to watch superheroes shows and old shows like Knight Rider and Air Wolf. She’s pretty choosy when it comes to food, and prefers to eat wet food more than the nasty dry pet food for cats. If I did not bathe her at least once a week, she’ll get very uncomfortable and bites and scratch around angrily.

Meow Meow also loves to be petted and hugged, and when it’s raining or storming outside, she’ll stick to me or my husband like a glue. I used to think that kittens only loves to chase yarn balls, but Meow Meow is different. She love all sort of children’s toys and loves to see picture books and not to mention watch cartoon. Sometimes, she even behaved like a little girl. She’ll want blanket and tends to hug little soft toys when she sleeps.

These days, Meow Meow would give me a wake up call. She would lick my face in the morning and if I still refused to get my lazy butt up from the bed, she’ll claw me. I never knew that I could love a little kitten so much that sometimes I treat her like my own daughter.

I could list down many reasons why I love Meow Meow. But at the end of the day, having someone to tell my problems to and would keep my secrets safe tops the list. For what it’s worth, I am sure glad and thankful that I brought Meow Meow home.

Cleffairy: Sometimes, animals would understand you better than human. Well, at least they won’t backstab you, scold you or even judge you for what you did and did not do. At least, pet’s love and devotion for you is always genuine.

A Penny For Your Thoughts, Time Heals What Love And Reason Cannot

Help needed? Fuck you!

October 26, 2009 22 Comments

I was a naive fool when it comes to helping people. Not to say that I am a charitable person, but then again, I usually will try my best to help people who are in need. But truthfully, I get sick and tired of helping people.

Especially in terms of financial problems-because I am struggling trying to make my ends meet and feeding my own bloody family and whatever nonsense that comes along with it. I hate it when people take advantage of me and my family, just because they know that we will try our best to help those who are in need.

I don’t know who to blame, but it seems that people around me are poor in upbringing that they are willing to go around begging for money when they are perfectly healthy and capable of earning money themselves. I may be able to tolerate for first and second time, but not the third. I had enough.

They said-they just want to borrow the money, but by the end of the day, or even years, we’ll never get back the money that we borrowed to them.It is easy to say no when they’re just friends or colleagues, but it is definitely not easy when it is your relatives or your fucking in laws. You don’t give them the money, they’ll cry foul and make people misunderstood your reluctance to help them. AndÂ they too will tell people that you’re the kind of people who couldn’t care less if they were to suicide before your very eyes.

It is just sickening that these people simply asks for money from others, take em for their own use, not thinking that the people that they took the money from too have their own sets of financial difficulties.

Just because one does not announce to the world that they are having financial problems, it does not mean that the person in question does not have any financial problems at all. It is just a matter of common sense that one should not announce their financial problems to outsiders.

It is just horrible when you simply cannot say no to the people who asks to borrow money from you, promising you that they will soon return the money as soon as they can. But at the end or the day or decades, they will treat their ‘debts’ as something that never happened before.

I know what my father will tell me if I told him such problems that’s bothering me at the moment. He will definitely tell me that all of these nonsense has to stop. There is no easy way in settling your problems or succeeding in career or life, and if you have financial problems, by all means, do your best to earn the money to support yourself instead of begging around for it.

And now, I’d like to say the same thing to the certain someone in my life at the moment, only in a more crude way.

“Screw you, bastard. If you have no money, just go and sell that asshole of yours in a gay bar. It probably can fetch more money than extorting from me.”

I am sorry of this entry bothers my precious readers, but I really do hope that the certain someone will come to my blog and READ about this and stop bothering me ever again!

And no, I don’t care if this will severe our blood ties, because as far as I am concern, you only see me as an ATM machine, not your relative. All these while, my family have been helping yours and when my family is in trouble, where the fuck did you and your clan go? Not only you did not help, but you make things worst for us instead by badmouthing us. So, yeah, basically, all I’m trying to say is, go and fuck your own asshole.

Cleffairy: As much as I hate people who borrow money from others and never returning them, I don’t think I can tolerate ball -less men who runs to their mummy each time they encounter problems even more! I think most women out there are even above these men, because when they are married and have families of their own, women hardly runs back to their own family for help. Some women persevere better then some of those weaklings.

A Penny For Your Thoughts, Time Heals What Love And Reason Cannot

When You Divorce Me, Carry Me Out in Your Arms

October 25, 2009 15 Comments

: Image via Wikipedia

I stumbled upon this in my email this morning when I was having a cuppa tea, and somehow, it made me ponder. So, my married and unmarried readers, I’d like to share the story with you.

On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy.. I was a strong and happy bridegroom.

This was the scene ten years ago.

The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I went into business and tried to make more money. When the assets were steadily increasing, the affection between us seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school.

Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy. But the calm life was more likely to be affected by unpredictable changes.

Dew came into my life.

It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love. This was the apartment I bought for her.

Dew said, you are the kind of man who best draws girls’ eyeballs. Her words suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we were just married, my wife said, Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls.

Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife.. But I couldn’t help doing so.

I moved Dew’s hands aside and said you go to select some furniture, O.K.? I’ve got something to do in the company. Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised to do it together with her. At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be something impossible to me.

However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt.

Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner. I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon. Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizing Dew’s body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slightly joking way, suppose we divorce, what will you do? She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparently she believed that divorce was something too far away from her. I couldn’t imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.

When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something while talking to her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes.

Once again, Dew said to me, He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together. I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more.

When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand. I’ve got something to tell you, I said. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the serious topic calmly.

She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I’m serious. I avoided her question. This so-called answer made her angry.. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man!

That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had gone to Dew.

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart. The woman who had been living ten years with me would become a stranger one day. But I could not take back what I had said.

Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer.

Late that night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing something at the table. I fall asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was asleep again.

She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her one month s time before divorce, and in the month’s time we must live as normal a life as possible. Her reason was simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn’t want him to see our marriage was broken.

She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, He Ning, do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day? This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, I remember. You carried me in your arms, she continued, so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the end of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning.

I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to end her marriage romantically.

I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce, she said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feel uncomfortable.

My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, Let us start from today, don’t tell our son. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for a bus, I drove to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face.

On the third day, she whispered to me, the outside garden is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of Dew became vague.

On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger. I didn’t tell Dew about this.

I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, It seems not difficult to carry you now. She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain.. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head.

Our son came in at the moment. Dad, it’s time to carry mum out. He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at the last minute. I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old.

I held her tightly and said, both you and I didn’t notice that our life lacked intimacy.

I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I won’t divorce. I’m serious.

She looked at me, astonished. The she touched my forehead. You got no fever.. She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I can only say sorry to you, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of life, not because we didn’t love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you.

Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove to the office.

When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife which was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I’ll carry you out every morning until we are old.

Cleffairy: Unfortunately in the real world, bitches always have their ways. 🙁

To my married and unmarried friends:

This is a very touching story, please read it slowly, I’ve read it more than twice….