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age
30-35,
writes: Dear Cupid is one of the only places I can express myself; liberated from self-consciousness by the mask of anonymity, I can write from the heart. There was a time when writing was the love of my life; my understanding of the English language and passion for literature once promised to carry me to the heights academically. But a couple of years ago, some deeply traumatic events befell me which caused my entire life - the only one I had before Le Chevalier found me - to collapse like a house of cards. I limped away from secondary school soon after my eighteenth birthday, emotionally and psychologically wounded, with my dreams shattered like glass. I thought I'd never write again.Months and months later though, I came across this website quite by chance; for a while, I simply observed. Then I posted a question or two... and answered a couple in return. Over time my confidence grew; I'd come back regularly to type more replies, realising that I'd found a place to put my skills to good use, and in the best way possible: for not only could I write, but I could do so to help others. Weeks passed, and finally I felt brave enough to create an account and put my "name" behind my mouth. And you know what? I've never looked back.I can't solve all my problems at once. That house of cards is taking a while (years, to be honest) to build from scratch again. But you can find salvation in the most unlikely places, and DC has helped me an enormous amount. When I sit down at my laptop, log in, and my fingers hit the keyboard, I do so hope I can make a difference - no matter how small - to another human being. Being here has healed me immensely; offering a few words of advice or comfort is the least I can do to give something back for that. In truth, I'd make this my life's work if only I could! But where does Le Chevalier come in to all of this? Well, he's the only person who knows my true identity. Still somewhat insecure at the time, I found sending him the link to my advice column fairly tough. Like everyone else on DC though, he wasn't there to judge, only to listen. And when I'm given positive feedback from either corner, regardless of any complexities and troubles of my existence past and present, I can finally feel sure of myself. Finally.(Thank you for reading! x)here is an example of my writing: When I opened my eyes last Wednesday morning, I had no idea where I was at first. Lying in the semi-darkness of the small hours, it took me a few moments to make out my surroundings: the unfamiliar slope of an attic ceiling above my head, a large drying rack crouching in the corner like some slumbering beast draped in towels and shirts, the red light of a hot water tank glowing, beacon-like, in the gloom. I was covered by only a thin but surprisingly warm brown blanket which wasn't mine; the pillow my head was resting on was a shape I wasn't in the least bit accustomed to, and as I rolled over, making the mattress springs creak in the process, I realised how much my neck ached as a consequence.It took me less than a heartbeat to forget the discomfort though, for there beside me I found a sleeping form which made me remember everything in a rush. I was in a studio flat, four floors up, in the eastern suburbs of Paris. It was the second day of my temporary escape to my other life, the secret one I share (about 5% of the time) with this man, Le Chevalier. In the bluish light I looked upon his face with adoration, tinged with a feeling not unlike sadness, taking in his black, wavy hair, long eyelashes, and generous lips. So sweet and serene, I thought. In another time he could've been an artist - and I his muse.I don't have a life... I have two. A double life sounds glamorous on the surface, doesn't it? Sure, it's exciting in the beginning: daring, risky, romantic. It can be pretty exhausting in the long run though. There comes a time when you find yourself almost yearning for the sort of commonplace existence you rejected in the first place. Don't get me wrong, if your reasons are worthwhile, you find the strength to carry on no matter what. But still. I'm not involved in anything at all illegal or immoral by the way (no one's cheating on anyone else, if you were wondering!), but my story does happen to be a complicated one. I don't suppose you'd guess it to look at me - tangled personal life aside, I seem normal enough, if perhaps a little unconventional. Not many people know the real me though. I have few close friends in the offline world, but that's the way it's always been; finding people who truly understand me, or in whom I've felt comfortable to confide has never been easy. In fact, the only person who I feel gets me completely is that dark-haired guy with the sea-coloured eyes who lives hundreds of miles away, and whom I met under the most unusual circumstances. Was it inevitable, then, that we'd end up being drawn into this surreal situation? :)
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reader, C. Grant  +, writes (18 January 2012):
 Thank you for sharing your story, and the sample of your writing. It's always affirming to hear that DC has made a difference for someone -- sometimes we don't hear that for a while and lose sight of why we're here. Although I don't think the site guarantees anyone a knight. ;)
Your facility with the language is a delight -- something I noticed in your answers, and something you're reaffirmed nicely in those three paragraphs. Please continue writing -- you have a gift!
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