20/06/2026
And suddenly, I no longer see myself as a bride.
Maybe this is what acceptance looks like—not finally being okay, but finally letting go of the version of me who believed love would always find its way back.
I used to see it so clearly: a white dress, flowers in my hands, walking down the aisle toward you while everyone watched a promise unfold.
Now when I close my eyes, I see nothing.
And somehow, that hurts more than losing you.
Because maybe what died wasn’t my belief in marriage, it was the lover girl in me. The one who romanticized staying, who believed enough love could soften choices, who thought if she loved gently enough, deeply enough, she would eventually be chosen.
I mourn her sometimes.
Not because she was naive, but because she was beautiful.
She loved with both hands open.
But she waited too long at doors that never opened for her.
So now, I’m learning a different dream.
No aisle. No vows. No bouquet.
Just airports, new cities, expensive dinners for one, soft mornings, and a life so full that loneliness no longer sounds like failure.
Maybe I’ll always be the guest at weddings—smiling, clapping, pretending my chest doesn’t ache for a future I once held so vividly.
And maybe one day it won’t ache anymore.
Maybe one day I’ll stop looking at white dresses and wondering what happened to the girl who thought she’d wear one.
Until then—
Rich Tita for life. đź’Ś
