A Message to Anyone, v.6 (continued) Options

[*CrackedRearView*]

Well, since the other one is gone, let's try it again. Credits to Vinh for the original.

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I've been saying it since the very beginning. "You broke me." What have you done?!

I hang on your every word. I anticipate everything. And there's nothing I'd change.

How did I start loving you so much?

[*CrackedRearView*]

Ever read something so powerful that it momentarily took your vigor? Made you cry? Tugged at the proverbial heartstrings? There are only three instances I can recall: John Irving's A Prayer for Owen Meany, the eulogy my brother wrote for my mother, and what you just wrote to me. In every sense of the adjective, John Irving is a 'writer'. In every sense of the adjective, my brother was a 'writer'. In every sense of the adjective, you are a 'writer'.

For years, people have told me that I've got the knack. People have told me that I simply know the secret that is hidden from everyone but a select few: the secret that is writing efficiently. Of course, in unreasonable modesty, I always cordially disagreed. However, that cordial disagreeance was somewhat founded. I only recently found out what the 'secret' to writing really is. It would appear to me that you, my darling female, have figured it out, as well. The secret is penetration. The human being possesses a very intricate, but very powerful network, woven in methodical fashion, of barriers that writers live to breach. It is this impenetrable emotional wall that writers are built to break down. Sweetheart, you have taken every fiber, every cable, and every brick holding my emotional citadel intact, and you have smashed it. In that sense alone, you are a 'writer'.

You've written effectively because you've uttered everything I've felt for so long but lacked the power to describe. We care about each other so much that it's borderline insane. You explained it perfectly. I wonder why you waste your time with me, while you wonder the exact same thing. I put you before myself, and you do the exact same thing. I long to hold you, to kiss you, to whisper in your ear, and you long for the exact same thing. I think if I were told to describe love, I'd have a new outlook on it, thanks to you. I believe love is about selflessness. It's about finding a priority in another person, and exploiting that priority; glorifying it. It's about being willing to die for a person to make them comfortable, to make them smile, to make them laugh. And Anna, I would die to make you smile, to make you laugh.

And that just leads me to another beautiful heartache. I love your laugh, I love your smile, I love your voice. I love your quirks, I love your language, and culture. I love your outlook, your sarcasm, your personality, your concerns. I love your self-consciousness, I cherish your flaws, I'd fight to keep everything about you preserved in perfect order. I love the way you love me, I love the way you talk to me, the way you compliment me. I love the way you get mad at me, I love your ambition, I love your struggles. I love it when you characteristically squeal, I love it when you tell me 'I'm mad at you, mister,' I love it when you get worried about gaining three pounds. There are just so many personality traits about Milpitas' Anna Wang that I adore with so much fervor. I couldn't begin to list them all.

I love how there are certain things I could disagree with you about, and the overall meaning behind them wouldn't change. Take your post, for example. I could contradict you and say that what we have is puppy love, and no foul would be committed. I could say that it is very credulous, and quite believable that you and I are together, and it would give you a smile. There's no gray area with us, Anna, and that's what makes it so fun. It is fun, isn't it? These past three months have been laced with tragedy and sorrow, and through it all, I've had so much fun that I can hardly begin to portray it in writing. All thanks to a little 5'4" (wow, that's tall) Chinese cutie from a northern California small town. That warrants thanks. Thank you so much, Anna.

We are naïve, Anna, so much that many people would look at us like we're ridiculous; like we're jumping into a pool too deep, and don't know how to swim. But being naïve just adds to the fun, like you said. And, after careful consideration over the past three months, there's nothing I'd rather be than a naïve little child with a bad case of puppy love, doodling 'Anna' on his hand.

Last year, when I officially tried to forget about the girl I had 'loved' for just under a decade, I thought I would never find anyone to love. The heartache was so painful that I shut myself off from everyone and everything important for a long, long time. I never want to experience such pain again, but that inspires fear in me. I, just like many others observing us blossom together, have faith in our relationship, but I have a fear of losing you. I never felt this strongly about Lisa, never. So, I've come to realize that if I lost you, the pain would be an amply greater. I don't want to lose you, Anna. I can't. But I'm happy, because I know I won't; because I know we both want to spend 'forever', whatever crazy amount of time that may be, together. I want to spend forever with you.

I've noticed that you somehow always seem to have more to offer. I've told you (and tried to reassure myself) that I'll be the one taking care of you. That I'm going to come up to the bay area, oh, that sweet part of the country harboring my angel, and sweep you off your Asian feet. But I'm having doubts about the validity of that proposal lately. I'm starting to believe it's the exact opposite. Even in this instance, you offered me 4,000, I'm offering you 1,100. I need you more than you need me, and that realization has been so solidified that it makes me cry; it gives me that 'good heartache' I told you about. You make my heart ache, Anna, and there's no cure for it; no pill to take; no syrup to drink. But, then again, do I want to cure it? It feels so good, even though it hurts. It's so good that now I doubt that a pill, or some syrup would do more good than bad.

Your 4,000th post...

http://www.createblog.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=89085&view=findpost&p=1423547

It's just a combination of meaningless letters, symbols, and numbers that to the ordinary person would indicate nothing. What lies in that beautiful combination is the real prize; the true beauty. What lies in that beautiful combination is the emotion expressed by a person so important, beautiful, magnificent. That beautiful combination encases the affection of the only person whose affection matters.

You already know what I'm about to tell you. I've lost everyone, Anna. All of my immediate family is gone, any friends I had are gone, my home is gone, my mother and brother are gone. It's amazing how quickly these 'impenetrable fortresses' in your life can vanish off the face of the earth, but they do. And when it happens, you're left with my condition: stripped naked, with an awful spotlight blinding you from above, with your hands in the air, begging God to kill you. And then, out of nowhere, someone like you comes and puts a hand on that desperate person's tattered shoulder, and rights every wrong in their life. That's a huge favor to do for someone, and you've done it, Anna. Whether you know it or not, you've corrected me. You're the only one I have left, and you mean more to me than anyone else in the world. I love you so much that I've spent three hours trying to express the inexpressible: my love for you in writing.

Thank you for the heartache, Anna. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being you.