Week 2 Story: Cupid's Heartbroken Letter to Psyche

Rahima, photo taken by Mike Monaghan via Flickr. (July 17, 2018)

Note: The following story was inspired by Cupid and Psyche (Part A), from The Golden Ass written by Apuleius and translated by Tony Kline. The original story's language is full of imagery and speech and contains dialogue from a multitude of characters, but I wanted to recreate the story in simpler language and from what could have been Cupid's view: how he felt, what he thought, why he did what he did.

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Dear Psyche,

I'm not really sure what to say, and honestly, I just need to write this down. I doubt it'll ever get to you.

You've ripped out my heart, Psyche. Why couldn't you have just trusted me? Was I wrong in thinking you were happy?

My mom is a fierce and jealous woman. We've been at odds for awhile, and I got tired of obeying her all the time for stupid, petty little things like this. When I saw you, I was mesmerized. Perhaps I'd even fallen in love with you before I shot myself with my own arrow. Maybe it was out of spite for my mother. It didn't sit right with me to curse you into a love you didn't deserve just because she hated your beauty. It wasn't your fault the people thought you the earthly version of herself. All of the worshipping and praying towards you isn't your fault at all. You're so beautiful... I can understand it. I mean, I did shoot myself. God, these awful arrows. It's unbearable to be away from you. I miss you. 

But I can't. You broke my trust, and in my eyes, you're no longer deserving of my love. Did it really matter what I looked like if I cared for you and loved you? I gave you everything. We could have had everything.

I mean, what was I supposed to do? It's not like I can just put my wings away or stop being who I am. If I showed you, would you truly have loved me for who I am, or the gorgeous guy you see before you? Would you have been able to separate me from my looks? Sigh. Not to mention.. well, I wanted to keep this from my mom. Her fury at me is something I wanted to avoid, and had you seen me, countless others would have been told, I'm sure. But in the end I guess the news reached her anyway, and now I don't have you. 

Your sisters deserved their fates for how rotten they were to you. It wasn't a love for me that threw them off those cliffs, but selfishness, greed, and pride. I know the news of their deaths crushed you, but Psyche, they encouraged the damage done to us. They whispered lies in your ear and your gullible, loving heart trusted them because they were your sisters. They wanted everything I'd given you and were willing to do anything to replace you with themselves, including jumping the cliffs. And I tried. I tried to tell you. I tried to warn you. Time and time again I said to you "they're planning something bad, and no matter what they tell you, don't listen, or it will affect our relationship in the worst way." But they persisted and had you convinced I was some monster, all because I didn't want you to see who I really am.

And so you betrayed me. I want to think about our loving nights and your soft, warm skin, the golden candlelight, your sweet scent of lavender and dandelions. But all I can think about is the hot lamp oil burning me and a searing pain in my shoulder, opening my eyes and seeing your face pale, shocked to see me for the first time. There were drops of blood on your finger, and my eyes darted to my arrows at the end of the bed. One was bloody. I felt like I was going to be sick. I leapt up from the bed and went outside, running my hands through my hair and processing what had just happened. The more it sank in, the more it hurt and the angrier I became. You ran outside to me crying, apologizing over and over again, trying to convince me of your love. I didn't even want to look at you, let alone speak to you. And so the last thing I said to you was that I was going to make your sisters pay, but as for you? My punishment for you was me walking away.

And I thought... somehow I thought it would be easier than this.

Cupid