Everyday the chance of rain increases by 10% and like everything, the wedding itself, there is nothing I can do to stop it. I am just here, in the slipstream standing perfectly still watching time pass so fast my hair is swirling around my head. I tick the days off the calender.
Over the weekend I wobbled in my heels running around town with all my girlfriends drinking like there was actually a last hope for youthful bachelorette freedom to be had. When I got home it was swollen and sore and I did not run for three days. Time moved even faster. I lay around on ice vaguely disgusted by excess, eating left over penis shaped mint candies.
Sascha is here so solemnize me into marriage and, as my spiritual counselor took me to the ferris wheel where I told her how I wasn't really there. Not exactly. Then forgot immediately everything I had just said.
Turns out my soul was really lacking the lowdown open road and I was newly baptized on the go-cart track.
I have no idea how Clark is feeling about all this, about his mix of emotions. He said to me once NOTHING IS GOING TO CHANGE, ITS LIKE WE ARE MARRIED ALREADY and maybe he is right. But I am a sinister rightbrainedlefty and symbolism usurps tangibility for my emotional investment. I don't hardly see him actually. Just a stranger, like me, working to pull off this crazy event.
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