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Sihala Piyasa (Sinhala Literature Forum)
Wenath (Other)
Love's labour is never lost
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<blockquote data-quote="neroshan" data-source="post: 101715" data-attributes="member: 8568"><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">When one is surrounded by love, the feeling of excitement fades away, and one tends to ignore the true love that lies in between the peace and dullness. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">My husband is an engineer by profession, I love him for his steady nature, and I love the warm feeling when I lean against his broad shoulders. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">Three years of courtship and now , two years into marriage, I would have to admit, that I am getting tired of it. The reasons for me loving him before have now transformed into the cause of all my restlessness. I am a sentimental woman and extremely sensitive when it comes to a relationship and my feelings. I yearn for the romantic moments, like a little girl yearning for candy. My husband is my complete opposite, his lack of sensitivity, and the inability of bringing romantic moments into our marriage has disheartened me about love. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">"I am tired" </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">One day, I finally decided to tell him my decision, that I wanted a divorce. "Why?" he asked, shocked. "I am tired, there are no reasons for everything in the world!" I answered. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">He kept silent the whole night, seemed to be in deep thought with a lighted cigarette at all times. My feeling of disappointment only increased. Here was a man who can't even express his predicament, what else can I hope from him? Finally he asked me: what can I do to change your mind? </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">The test </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">Somebody said it right: it's hard to change a person's personality, and I guess, I have started losing faith in him. Looking deep into his eyes I slowly answered: Here is the question. If you can answer and convince my heart, I will change my mind - Let's say, I want a flower located on the face of a mountain cliff, and we both are sure that picking the flower will cause your death. Will you do it for me? </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">He said: I will give you your answer tomorrow... My hopes just sank by listening to his response. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">I woke up the next morning to find him gone, and saw a piece of paper with his scratchy handwriting, underneath a milk glass, on the dining table near the front door. The note read: "My dear, I would not pick that flower for you, but please allow me to explain the reasons further." </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">This first line was already breaking my heart. I continued reading... "When you use the computer, you always mess up the software programs, and you cry in front of the screen. I have to save my fingers so that I can help to restore those programmes and wipe off your tears. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">"You always leave the house keys behind, so I have to save my legs to rush home to open the door for you. You love travelling but always lose your way in a new city, I have to save my eyes to show you the way. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p> <strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p> <strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p> <strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">You like to stay indoors, and I worry that you will be infected by infantile autism. I have to save my mouth to tell you jokes and stories to cure your boredom. You always stare at the computer, and that will do nothing good for your eyes, I have to save my eyes so that when we grow old, I can help to clip your nails. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">"So I can also hold your hand while strolling down the beach, as you enjoy the sunshine and the beautiful sand...and tell you the colour of flowers, just like the colour of the glow on your face... </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">"So, my dear, unless I am sure that there is someone who loves you more than I do, I could not pick that flower yet, and die..." </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">My tears dropped on the letter, and blurred the ink of his handwriting. I continued reading... "Now, that you have finished reading my answer, if you are satisfied, please open the front door for I am standing outside, like every day, with your favourite bread and fresh milk." </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">I rush to pull open the door, and saw his anxious face, clutching tightly with his hands, the milk bottle and loaf of bread. Now I am very sure that no one will ever love me as much as he does, and I have decided to leave the flower alone. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">That's life, and love . When one is surrounded by love, the feeling of excitement fades away, and one tends to ignore the true love that lies in between the peace and dullness. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">Love shows up in all forms , even very small and cheeky forms. It has never been a model, it could be the dullest and boring form. Flowers and romantic moments are only used and appear on the surface of the relationship. </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: DarkRed">Under all this, the pillar of true love stands. And that's reason enough to live.</span></strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="neroshan, post: 101715, member: 8568"] [B][COLOR="DarkRed"] When one is surrounded by love, the feeling of excitement fades away, and one tends to ignore the true love that lies in between the peace and dullness. My husband is an engineer by profession, I love him for his steady nature, and I love the warm feeling when I lean against his broad shoulders. Three years of courtship and now , two years into marriage, I would have to admit, that I am getting tired of it. The reasons for me loving him before have now transformed into the cause of all my restlessness. I am a sentimental woman and extremely sensitive when it comes to a relationship and my feelings. I yearn for the romantic moments, like a little girl yearning for candy. My husband is my complete opposite, his lack of sensitivity, and the inability of bringing romantic moments into our marriage has disheartened me about love. "I am tired" One day, I finally decided to tell him my decision, that I wanted a divorce. "Why?" he asked, shocked. "I am tired, there are no reasons for everything in the world!" I answered. He kept silent the whole night, seemed to be in deep thought with a lighted cigarette at all times. My feeling of disappointment only increased. Here was a man who can't even express his predicament, what else can I hope from him? Finally he asked me: what can I do to change your mind? The test Somebody said it right: it's hard to change a person's personality, and I guess, I have started losing faith in him. Looking deep into his eyes I slowly answered: Here is the question. If you can answer and convince my heart, I will change my mind - Let's say, I want a flower located on the face of a mountain cliff, and we both are sure that picking the flower will cause your death. Will you do it for me? He said: I will give you your answer tomorrow... My hopes just sank by listening to his response. I woke up the next morning to find him gone, and saw a piece of paper with his scratchy handwriting, underneath a milk glass, on the dining table near the front door. The note read: "My dear, I would not pick that flower for you, but please allow me to explain the reasons further." This first line was already breaking my heart. I continued reading... "When you use the computer, you always mess up the software programs, and you cry in front of the screen. I have to save my fingers so that I can help to restore those programmes and wipe off your tears. "You always leave the house keys behind, so I have to save my legs to rush home to open the door for you. You love travelling but always lose your way in a new city, I have to save my eyes to show you the way. You like to stay indoors, and I worry that you will be infected by infantile autism. I have to save my mouth to tell you jokes and stories to cure your boredom. You always stare at the computer, and that will do nothing good for your eyes, I have to save my eyes so that when we grow old, I can help to clip your nails. "So I can also hold your hand while strolling down the beach, as you enjoy the sunshine and the beautiful sand...and tell you the colour of flowers, just like the colour of the glow on your face... "So, my dear, unless I am sure that there is someone who loves you more than I do, I could not pick that flower yet, and die..." My tears dropped on the letter, and blurred the ink of his handwriting. I continued reading... "Now, that you have finished reading my answer, if you are satisfied, please open the front door for I am standing outside, like every day, with your favourite bread and fresh milk." I rush to pull open the door, and saw his anxious face, clutching tightly with his hands, the milk bottle and loaf of bread. Now I am very sure that no one will ever love me as much as he does, and I have decided to leave the flower alone. That's life, and love . When one is surrounded by love, the feeling of excitement fades away, and one tends to ignore the true love that lies in between the peace and dullness. Love shows up in all forms , even very small and cheeky forms. It has never been a model, it could be the dullest and boring form. Flowers and romantic moments are only used and appear on the surface of the relationship. Under all this, the pillar of true love stands. And that's reason enough to live.[/COLOR][/B] [/QUOTE]
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