If someone were to ask me right now to take a sheet of notebook paper and write down ten reasons I shouldn't go through with this, that poor sheet of paper would end up covered from front to back as I surpassed the number ten and wrote down more than enough. Things such as:

I barely even know this guy but I've read about him plenty of times in the headlining articles to know how he is I don't even love him and he'll definitely never love me

would most probably make the list.

If the same person were to tell me to do the same thing except this time write ten reasons why I should go through with this, I doubt I could even write a reasonable three. Sad, but true. 

Even as I walked down the aisle, heavy and long white train dragging behind me, making me feel like an oversized and colorless peacock, I failed to think of any reasons better than "this is the right thing to do and "this is the only way." Even then, I wasn't quite sure if that was good enough. Sure it was a good and right thing to do but was it the only thing? No. There were other options for both of our families but yet here I was, walking blindly into my new life with my new marriage and my new husband—theoretically, of course. I can see perfectly fine.

What I saw was a very overly decorated wedding hall, one half full of very wealthy people I didn't even know and the other filled with family members I hadn't seen in years. I saw fake smiles looking up at me from every corner, rose petals on every surface, and little sparkles from where my eyeshadow was caught in my eyelashes. I saw everything around that gave me reason after reason to not go through with this wedding but I continued down the aisle and let my parents give me away to the only person in the room not faking his emotions, no matter how stoic and downright hateful they looked sitting on his sickeningly handsome face.

The exchanging of vows was short and to the point and the lack of loving words was obvious but neither one of us cared. We kissed and smiled at our guests, linking our lives from there on out. I was too overwhelmed with the sudden shouts of congratulations and the rushing of our parents to get pictures that I couldn't even give the dread settling in my stomach or the pinching headache behind my eyes any thought at all. Like my husband, I faked a happy smile and went along with it, arms looped and unconsciously holding tightly to one another in the midst of all the chaos.

 

Two years ago, when I found out that the bottling factory my family owned was slowly losing profits and would soon no longer be able to continue business, I was pretty devastated. It was a place I had grown up running around in and watching my father and grandfather work on endlessly and tirelessly. It had been founded by my great-great-grandfather and was always passed down through the family by the eldest son. Of course, I ended up being the only child and a girl so there was no one else for it to go to other than me and I was proud of that. I loved the quaint little factory in all its rusty and sometimes smelly glory. I looked forward to running it just like my dad.

Then the income got lower and workers had to be let off. I had made friends with most of tho