Ten years of friendship,
Three years of dating,
One year engaged,
It’s all lead to this:
My wedding day.
I should be ecstatic.
I’ve thought of this day since I was a child.
Six years old, playing with Barbie and her perfect specimen Ken.
Her dress was always perfect,
So is mine.
It’s the day of my dreams,
Everything is perfect.
A panic has set in.
From a few simple words,
Dripped from the mouth of a hungover bridesmaid.
“I’m glad I’m here at your first wedding.”
I try to calm myself,
She didn’t mean it that way.
But the more I think about it,
The more I:
Panic.
Most weddings end in divorce as it is.
Most couples spend thousands and thousands.
The flowers,
The cake,
The venue.
Only for it to all end in a piece of paper,
One that means the end to their love.
What if he and I are the same?
What if we’re just a statistic?
What if it’s all a lie?
A pretty lie we tell all of our friends and family
For one day,
And then nothing is the same after?
Do I dare take that risk,
Knowing it might end in
One year?
Three years?
Ten years?
Yes.
I do.
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