I was in love with someone, but the moment I woke up I couldn’t remember if it was a mutual relationship or a deep, meaningful one on my part only. I tend to think the former. One day, unbeknownst to me, he met one of my friends, and they fell for each other instantly — so instantly that they announced their engagement and got married almost immediately.
I was devastated. To make matters worse, I was having a hard time finding a bathroom stall that I would fit into.
Soon it was the day of the wedding, and everyone would, without thinking, tell me they were going. I wasn’t invited, but my friends were because they were dating or married to friends of the groom. I didn’t know anyone so I wasn’t invited.
I found myself at a picnic table under a tent. The setting felt like a reception, but I don’t know that it was. I couldn’t eat anything put in front of me, most of which seemed to be bizarre fruits. I was sick, physically sick, not about having loved and lost, but about having been betrayed and forgotten, about having become nothing.