Suzie In Relationships

Author: Cassandra fuck u (s)

Susie thinks the way people describe love is stupid. Soft, forgiving, patient, blind. Almost theatrical. People imitate romantic behaviors they have seen somewhere else because they think that must be what love is about, rather than because they genuinely enjoy doing those things. They learn the gestures before they ever learn the person.

Susie doesn’t think love is blind. She thinks love makes you see too much. It means seeing someone so completely that you don’t just see the painting; you see every color that made it exist. Every ugly shade, every strange detail, every crack in the canvas.

If Susie truly wanted someone, if she actually considered building a relationship with them, she would want to know everything. Not just the things they proudly show people, but the embarrassing parts, the ugly habits, the strange interests, the things they might never admit to anyone, maybe not even to themselves. She’d want to know what they watch on Netflix and YouTube, what their social media looks like when nobody is watching, what their routine is, what they are like when they’re tired, excited, hungry, needy, horny, angry, ashamed, or simply having a terrible day. She’d want to know their darker needs, what makes them uncomfortable, what makes them lose their temper, how they treat people they don’t need or want anything from.

She would probably learn their routine without even meaning to. Their timetable. Their habits. The little patterns that make them them. It sounds obsessive, excessive, maybe even insane, but Susie doesn’t really see the problem. If relationships are supposed to last a lifetime, then why wouldn’t you want to know exactly what you’re agreeing to? If you’re making a deal for the rest of your life, why would you sign it without reading the contract?

She doesn’t need someone to be innocent. In fact, innocent people might bore her. She likes flaws. She likes scars. She likes the parts of people that aren’t pretty. If the moon were perfectly smooth, without a single crater, would it really be as beautiful? The scars are part of it. The damage is part of its history. You don’t have to erase every ugly thing about someone to love them.

But there is one thing Susie cannot tolerate: malice.

Not mistakes. Not accidents. Not ignorance. Not someone doing something stupid without understanding what it would cause. She can understand those things. What she cannot accept is someone consciously deciding to hurt her while knowing exactly what it would do.

Because then it isn’t something she needs to understand anymore.

It’s information.

And Susie believes information should change your decisions.

She doesn’t believe people change simply because they are loved enough. People change because they decide to change themselves. So she doesn’t believe every relationship deserves another chance. There is no rule saying that something beautiful automatically deserves to continue existing forever. Sometimes something can have been real, meaningful, even deeply loved, and still reach its end.

When someone crosses that particular line, something in Susie simply clicks. There isn’t necessarily a dramatic confrontation. There doesn’t have to be revenge. There doesn’t even have to be hatred. The files are just deleted.

The face might be forgotten within a day or two. The name might remain somewhere in her memory, but everything else becomes irrelevant. The person who once occupied an enormous amount of space in her mind suddenly becomes someone who simply existed.

And the strangest part is that she doesn’t necessarily forget the relationship itself.

She can forget you without forgetting what being with you felt like. The stimulation. The routines. The intimacy. The experience of being wanted, knowing someone, discovering them, being discovered in return. She can let the person disappear while still remembering what she was looking for in the first place.

So eventually, she looks for it somewhere else.

Not because she’s trying to replace you specifically. She doesn’t even need you anymore. She just knows what kind of stimulation she wants, what kind of person interests her, what kind of connection she enjoyed, and she sees no reason to stop wanting those things just because one person proved themselves unworthy of providing them.

There is something almost careless about Susie. A kind of carelessness so complete that sometimes she could probably be careless even about herself. She doesn’t need to turn everything into a tragedy. She doesn’t need to spend years wondering why someone betrayed her. She doesn’t need to make them understand what they lost.

She just stops making them matter.

Maybe that’s the frightening thing about Susie. She can look directly at someone’s darkness and love them anyway. She can see the ugly parts, the scars, the contradictions, the things other people might run from, and still think, I want all of this.

But if she decides that someone deliberately turned that darkness against her, she doesn’t need to make them better. She doesn’t need to punish them. She doesn’t even necessarily need them to regret it.

She simply stops making room for them in her world.

Maybe Susie doesn’t love lightly. Maybe she loves with the same intensity with which she lets go. And perhaps those two things aren’t opposites at all. Perhaps they’re the same instinct:

If I let you into my world, I want to know everything about you. If you prove that you shouldn’t be there, I want to know how to live in my world without you.