So this is based on SPEAK NOW by Taylor Swift. i don't own the song or anything.
I am not the kind of girl,
I have never been the kind of person who crashes—parties, plates...weddings—it just wasn't me.
So why was i here right now?
Who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion.
I don't splinter into things. I respect space. I do what i have to. I think about my actions--the opposite of you. I'm a "goody-two-shoes" as you once called me.
My footsteps echoed down a hall deep in the recesses of the church. The walls and cold and damp, perfect for keeping my heart steady and my temperature down.
I look down at my dress; it was in the middle of the summer, so it was a light fabric, but it was still fancy. Still fancy enough for a wedding.
But you are not the kind of boy,
I remember the day i met you; it was very warm, sorta like today. I was 5, you were almost 6. It was our first day of kindergarten. My hair had been pinned up into 2 little pigtails by my mother. A 3rd grader had come up to me at recess, said my pigtails were ugly, then stomped on my PB & J. The sandwich made a deflated sort of sound, its edible guts cascading from the sides. I jumped to my feet, wanting to do something--anything-- to him, but looking at his giant form overshadowing mine, my anger changed into fear, and i deflated, rebellion gone.
His cronies sniggered, and i felt tears stinging my eyes.
The kids stole my lunch, and i sat back down on the grass. Desperately, i began pulling the rubber bands out of my hair.
That's when you sat next to me. You took the rubber band from my hand and redid--albeit messily--my pigtail. Then you gave me half your sandwich and started to eat.
"I like your hair." He grinned at me and i slowly smiled back. I knew i had found a friend.
Who should be marrying the wrong girl.
I had idolized you; thought you could do no wrong. You were my best friend; how could i not? You were like the sun to me; you warmed me, sustained me. I couldn't be alive without you. But the thing about the sun is that if you stare at it too long, you go blind. Only when you distance yourself can you see the whiplashes and the sunspots.
And it was partially true; you were the school's golden boy. The superman among us lowly humans.
But every superman has a kryptonite. Yours happened to be girls—as in the wrong ones. I had dealt with the steady stream of Barbies and dolls, using you for your looks, thinking you would grow mature, learn to weed out the bad ones.
But I was wrong. Every time, you would fall, and fall hard, for any pretty face.
I sneak in and see your friends,
I had used an old tunnel that started in the building and led out to a thicket of trees where I had parked my car. The church was an older one, one that your parents had gotten married in. The tunnel was for emergencies. And for me, this was one.
My footsteps echoed less and less as I neared the actual church. I had worn pumps, but it got to hot and too painful. I had chucked them into my car before wandering down here.
My toenails were red, to match my dress, and it was a nice contrast to the dreary tunnel. I was holding a small flashlight to light my way in the dark.
When I make it, I slip the small, but blessed, beacon that led me here, into my red clutch. Then I push against the wall, smiling slightly as it creaked open. No one notices the wall swinging open, and if they did, they didn’t mention it.
And her snotty little family all dressed in pastels.
Oh. You had never told me the name of your bride, or that you were getting married. I only heard as an askance from old friends at a party. I couldn’t believe that you wouldn’t have told me, your best friend.
And she is yelling at a bridesmaid,
Nice to see that your type hasn’t changed. Still going after the worst person you can find. I had told you once, in high school, in a fit of rage when you had brought your latest succubus (I could never really think of them as girlfriends, not really) to our movie night.