Two Hour Phone Call and the Reason I Wanna Drink 

It had been a two hour conversation. Every moment filled with too many emotions and questions. I finally had to practically hang up on her in order to tear away from the overwhelming. 
The first hour was negativity. Only negativity. Constant ripping apart of the men who had made us feel broken and the brokenness in those men that made them broken. It was too much. Even if I wanted to try to be positive I couldn’t manage it. I was burning out and being limply dragged down. I couldn’t resist or run from it. My heart just wrenched inside me feeling forced to listen to the chaos that she pushed on me. I tried to change the subject, but it always came back to her. Her feelings. Her need to vent. I couldn’t escape it unless I tried to change the subject to a topic that I couldn’t somehow get trapped in listening to her run her mouth and emotionally unload. 
The last hour was talking about the other topic I would have rather avoided: weddings. I’m not even engaged yet (if ever at the rate we’re going). Why do people have to ask what I want in a wedding? Or worse. Why do people need to tell me what I want in a wedding? I don’t even know what I want! I’m one extreme or the other: quiet tea party of 12 or Steampunk wedding of 200. Both felt like a beast to plan, mainly because of my life circumstances already burning me out until I have nothing left. 
Why did I even have to think about all this? I suppose because if I even want a wedding I’m going to have to pay for it. All of it. My parents cannot help me, they don’t have the means and traditionally it is the bride’s family that pays for it. So I need to make decisions now so as to save up to pay for things I want. If I can even figure out what I want. 
I’m too tired. I just wanna run from it. Hide from it. Wish that weddings didn’t have to be a show. Wish they didn’t feel so superficial. Fake. A wedding doesn’t make the marriage. The two people in the marriage do. Why was there an expectation to have weddings? Why the expectation to feed everyone? To have pictures? To buy party favors and pay for dancing and alcohol? It doesn’t seem worth it, and yet there is still a part of me that thinks to be there would be fun. But planning it? Sounds like a disaster. 

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