Sitting, white hotel sheets crushed.

A pillow to the side; not for resting, but for holding.

Wait. Alone. Wait for the party to begin.

This bed is too big.

I write this post in the interim period between attending a wedding ceremony and attending the reception.

Today I attended another wedding. I have known the groom my whole life. Before his bride arrived, he was smiling and joking at the church. And when the couple were first announced as husband and wife, they both beamed in such a genuine way, that my heart ached.

I am was overwhelmed with happiness for the two people in front of me. They have found their best friend, and declared that. Though, for me, weddings are always a conflicting experience. On one hand, I have positive emotions for the 2 people, but on the other hand, I feel sadness that I don’t have someone to call my partner in life, and I also feel inferior, because I can’t get married.

LGBTQI rights have come a long way in Australia, but same-sex marriage is still a dream. These feelings of inferiority come from the reminder that my expression of love and intimacy can not be publicly declared to be recognised by the state. My expression of love is not as worthy as theirs. I in no way begrudge others from getting married, but every time I go to a wedding I feel sad.

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