The humped festive season is officially over, and many are returning to their miserable lives. Sadly, these individuals are failing to make necessarily adjustments, yet they can. They are illuminated with a delusional belief, that life should be boring, soon as one attempts this thing called adulting. Oh, you my dear, you are doing it all wrong. What if, worsening the situation, on your one day off, you receive a mail from a dear ex, whom you still have strong feelings for? What comes to mind first?
Would it be a relief that perhaps it is an apology, and they want to get back with you? Could they have reformed and in need of a fresh start, where they would love you to be part of it? Yeah right, keep dreaming, we all know, there is no such thing as a fresh start. We are all ravished in our poor decision making, calling for a need, for one to suck it up and move on.
Any who, with tremendous joy and happiness, you blast the damn mail open: and there it is, a damn fucken wedding invitation, from your ex. Unfortunately, you still had hope, that one day, just may be one day, the sun will rise, and the two of you will be back together, in each other’s loving arms.
“That heartless twat, thinks that all is fine, since they have moved on, and living life to the fullest”, are the finest words, managing to escape out of your mouth, regardless of nearby company. Here you are, holding their wedding invitation, reminiscing and imagining, how it would feel and be like, if it was you and them, waiting for that memorable day to be.
Reality is inevitable; thus, one must do something, about this beautifully decorated invitation. You can be a total arsehole, and start off with criticizing how ugly and terribly designed the invitation is. And if images of their faces are printed on the invitation, you could cut out the eyes of both, and start making faces. Ways to destroy this invitation are limitless, depending on one’s tormented soul, though reality keeps haunting you: what’s next? I can think of a few ways to respond to the invite:
Be normal and pretend, all is well, and all is fine, as you struggle to live your life freely. You are then left with the only option of crashing deeply from the inside to the out, wondering why on the bloody earth, your ex decided to send you the invite? Could they be tormenting you and bragging how great they are doing without you? Come to think about it: we tend to feel better, even when done secretly, while shitting on lives of others, especially those who did us evil, even if presumed. Okay, that sounded a bit devilish.
You could call them and rant, uttering out how ruthless they are, naming them all shit you can, to feel better. At such a moment, you deserve and are offered all rights, to call them whatever makes you feel better, as far as your brain span is concerned.
Or better yet, you could RSVP, “cheerfully” agreeing to attend, with a devilish plan in a back of your mind, of messing up their wedding. You also plan on screwing everybody there, including dropping hints of hitting on their better half, regardless of what gender you are into, after all, gender is fucken fluid.
But as humans, we are strange creatures of Mother Nature. It is always interesting, what goes on in our minds, especially during times of a crisis. One may calmly accept the invitation, with a plan of attending to get closure, only to melt down, half way through the ceremony. All in all, it boils down to one thing: what do you really like as a person, and not necessarily, what will make you feel better. Once one figures this out, there will be no more lying to one’s self.
Plapus 