I cannot picture our wedding day.
As hard as I’ve tried to picture the lights, the venue, the dress, and the look on your face as I float down the aisle, it’s all just a grainy and unsatisfying blur – like a dream I’m desperately trying to remember, but can’t get a clear enough picture of. All I can extract is empty feelings and baseless daydreams.
“Marry me,” you said with a wink.
“I just might,” I shrugged, despite my protests to all the teasing proposals that came before.
And I really could marry you. In spite of everything, I could. You love me. You get me. You see the best and worst in me. You’re one of my best friends. You broke my heart and eventually helped me pick up some of the pieces. You’re my greatest victory, my longest story, my ugliest wound, my biggest mistake, and the one person I keep coming back to like a boomerang. I don’t believe in soulmates, but you’ve always felt like one. I want to support you. I want to share a life of creativity and adventure with you. I want to take care of you, fight with you, and make love to you.
And as hard as I try, I can’t see our future. I can’t see any of it.
I can’t see the ring on my finger. Maybe it’s because you think engagement rings are pointless and materialistic.
I can’t see the joy and excitement. Maybe it’s because I’d be too worried about you calling it all off at any moment.
I can’t see the ceremony and the subsequent celebration. Maybe it’s because it would be more your style to marry me in a courthouse.
I can’t see our first house. Maybe it’s because we’re broke, and the entire world is your home.
I can’t see you taking care of me when I’m old. Maybe it’s because the only thing you’ll ever grow old with is your guitar.
We’re merely supporting characters in each other’s stories, not complete chapters.
You’re the sea, and I’m the land. While you will always be there to brush up against me and wash parts of me off the edge, you’ll never stay. You’ll never commit. You’ll never give me what I need. And that’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.
But I still wish things could be different. I wish I could understand why the universe dangled you in front of me, yet made it so impossible for us to be together. I wish I could fathom how you manage to both inspire me like a bird learning how to fly and hurt me like lemon juice seeping into an open wound.
I want to get married someday. I want a ring on my finger, no matter how cheap. I want to announce my engagement to and plan my wedding with people who will be happy for me and say, “I knew it” instead of, “You’re making a huge mistake.”
I want someone who feels like home. I want someone to take care of me when I’m not what I used to be.
I know in my heart that you won’t be that person. But I desperately wish you were.