Wedding bells

It was my wedding today, and my sister's. We forgot all about it since the legal paper that was signed at court got tossed aside. We didn't think that day would ever come until a family member reminded us. But we never forgot, we knew it was today. We just surrendered to everyone else. They’ll tell us what to do, we’ve been listening ever since we were born so why not let them handle today fully? You don’t have to do much anyway, you don’t even have to smile at your wedding. If you looked scared that’s alright, it’s only appropriate to not want to part with your family. People looked down on brides who smiled too broadly, they had no shame.
My family pretended to forget too, they wanted us too numbed to have a say on how the wedding went. That was the easy part. I had a good night’s sleep yesterday. I put off all the worry to today, knowing it would unleash itself soon so I just waited. I had my usual breakfast and I washed the dishes. We have a saloon appointment. I casually mentioned I wanted to lift my hair this time. I've never lifted my hair for a party but if not as a bride then when?

The injustice of it all overwhelmed me then as blood rushed through my blood vessels so that my heart can pump to suit my feelings. Lifting my hair for my wedding. Who knew I’d be saying it? I thought maybe I’d first try it at my brother’s wedding but mine was first. I’m not sure whether the double wedding was a good idea or not. Do they want to get rid of us together? Or do they think we’ll help each other through today? I’m not sure, but I know we’ll be too far gone in our own little world to be of any help to ourselves much less to the other. My sister knew this too.
I started crying. Not all at once, a runny nose first then a single tear followed by an unstoppable flow.
Before we left, I went to talk to my dad. I asked him why did he put us in this situation when he knew we weren't ready yet. I must have said other things I can't remember because he sat there in front of me and he...started crying too. It was his emotions getting the better of him, making him admit to his hasty mistake. A mistake too profound to be undone, his pride and dignity would be lost if he backed out. Of course, it was pointless. I just knew I had to say it, maybe the confrontation would give me something to laugh about years from now.

I was too young, and so was my sister. We were engaged to sons of respectful families. I didn't know my fiance's age, job, likes and dislikes. I thought there'll be time to be introduced. I tried to use my dismissing way of thinking but the thoughts were too violent to allow their dismissal this easily. I succumbed, I fought the horror of images of him chewing out loud, demanding a cup of coffee I didn't know how he liked, him coming home to a burning rice pot, finding the shirt he wanted that morning wrinkled un-ironed, me standing listening to his fury and watching him realize my insignificance, that I had no sense of how to transform these rooms into a home, so unlike his mother. He feels an anger at my family for not teaching me how to decently fulfill my duties as a wife.

I saw it all, as vivid as a nightmare you just woke up from. It’s funny how you only remember the nightmares vividly but the good dreams vanish quickly. Another irony of life. I considered refusing to go to the wedding but I was technically already married. There was no escape, not one I saw then. With these ideas I sat in the saloon's chair. Ready to have hundreds of hair pins inserted and a blinding hair spray.

I began an endless prayer to my future, one that would go on inside of me till the day I died.

Life forcing itself

This is not me. I don't know who this is but it's not me. I don't know where I found all that courage from. I said what needed to be said at the right time and I put everything else aside, my pride on the line but not my dignity. I turned around, walked away from the scene and sat again with my friends. I sat staring at the table, I had no idea what was going on around me. I had to get away for a second. I went to get myself some water. I felt a knot tying in my throat, tears were so close to gushing out. This is not me. I don't cry. Now I can go on a whole day without food. I could sit without saying any word for hours on a stretch. I stared at how people got so worked up on things and envied them. I used to be like that, this is not me. I'm sure it will pass, I'll make sure it does. No one seemed to change, they all were the same and I....became an outcast in that moment. It didn't feel good. No one noticed, and I sat there in-between. Wishing they did, wishing someone forced those tears and words out of me, at the same time wishing they wouldn't because this is not me, they can't know. If you can't understand it, how will you ever be able to explain it? I needed someone at that moment, but I let no one in. I was failing everyone around me, and I didn't care. I'm telling you, this is not me. I care, I listen and I am there. But I didn't care, I was listening and I am nowhere near where I need to be. 
Tell me, who is this?

She lived

They often asked her about themselves, she wasn't sure whether they expected answers. She hoped not, she didn't have any answers for anyone. A silence. A few minutes till they found the right words. They carried on and she realized it was as if they were addressing themselves more than speaking to her. They said her name, you know how when someone says you're name while talking to you. How serious it makes things sound. Not knowing whether they told her because of who she was to them, or they'd have told anyone who would've lent an ear. It didn't matter in the end, things didn't just revolve around your being. We all lived to serve a purpose, perhaps lived to find that purpose.


These thoughts of theirs led them inside the hollows of their souls. She waited. It was a dark place to be in. She let them find their way out. This was what they called comfortable silence. She loved these moments.This was what she'd remember years from now. This moment, this easiness. In her head, this moment filled pages and pages. A sigh of relief. She was blessed enough to be there. Then, they wearily took themselves out of it, asked her about her life. She wanted to tell them that they didn't have to, with her of all people they could simple let go of the strain of keeping a conversation. She gave an answer all the same, as heartfelt as she could make it. It sounded so void to, and she was sad. Sad because it was the best she could do. And there were things you just knew. It wasn't insecurities, and it was far from self-doubt. There were things you knew about yourselves. People denied about you, yet you knew they were true.

They smiled to her, a smile that said 'you have it so easy.' She was too used to that smile, didn't give it much thought. They asked no more, and sometimes they even left. She let them. She had no story, only an imagination. And a combination of half-lived experiences. Don't belittle them. They're everything she can truly call her own. For now.

But everyone had a story. I believed that. How come she had none? Is fate weaving her story without her knowing? So I hoped, she of all deserved it.