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.