The wedding was beautiful. I have never been to an Indian wedding before, so it was pretty amazing to witness what was such a public, yet very intimate, moment between two people. When I finally got to see and speak to the bride–one of my closest friends in college–we ran to each other as if we were long lost loves and clung on to one another, unable to stop the tears.
I’m not sure why she or I cried. I never cry at weddings. I guess I felt both extremely happy for her, and a little bit sad. Sad in the sense that this is in a way, goodbye. It means she has officially entered another stage in her life; in my life. Gone are the days when we’ll sit around until 6am talking about boys. I know she’ll always be there, but its just different. We’re growing up.
It’s also strange to see her getting married, and thinking of her as amarried person. I cannot, for the life of me, fathom what that must be like. In a way, I feel left behind in the sense that I feel like everyone knows what the hell they are doing in love and in life, and I remain the perpetual teenager–confused and as angst-filled as ever. Their love seemed so certain, so clear, so easy. And me: I just haven’t the slightest clue.
Austin was the shell of a town I once knew. The memory of the place seemed more real than the actual location. This was my first time back since I moved to SF 2.5 years ago, and I felt completely disoriented.
I just want to go to Marfa these days–where there is nothing but unfolding blue sky and miles and miles of brush-covered dirt. I don’t know why I feel so at peace there, in a place where the vast emptiness mirrors how I feel inside. Maybe it’s because it’s the only place that feels real to me.