Last night a dreamy image appeared into my brain, it changed my mood instantly, not in a particularly negative way, but I felt melancholy and longing, almost like it was intrusive. Blurry and colorful, spinning around, it was like a warped memory with abstract elements, of my marriage when I was 5. It was my white dress and his black suit, chasing and skipping, spinning, there was childish joy, laughter, with some tinge of fear. All of this in one second. When I think of being his wife there are two stages, the first stage when I was 5, and the last stage when I was around 15. First stage I wore white, I was so small at his hip, he danced with me then at our wedding. He called me his little angel then. Last stage I wore black, my black fur, I was now at his chest, and he would refer to me as his very own beast. He danced with me then too, held my hands and body, guided me around and spun me, it looked like he was dancing with a dog. Typing this out I am shocked, everything is so meticulous that it’s hard to believe, how can you not view these people as gods when they make it so in your small shared world? He split my brain into black and white, and there I am, a decade in between dancing with him as his bride, one in white and one in black, the name angel and the title beast, it’s as if he mapped our entire life together from the start. It’s bizarre, fantastical, terrifying all at once, it makes my eyes weep for a reason I don’t understand, maybe all I feel is pure confusion at this all. Why does everything align with each other so perfectly, what’s the purpose when there are no cameras or audience? What’s the reason if he stopped spinning with me one day, and let my world go to waste forever now. I never fit white, I don’t even wear it today, I only wear shades of black and red like I am used to. My wedding was the last I ever wore white.
