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It should've been me, not her.
The voice inside my head chants again and again, repeating that phrase like a broken record.
My neck cranes slowly, guarded eyes following her figure across the hall. Her steps were light and graceful, yet somehow still impactful, while my feet remained heavy and rooted to the ground. My body was stuck in place as I watched her walk.
Her eyes were bright, her smile shining. Her whole being exuded happiness, announcing to the world how radiant she was.
Oh how I envy her. It should’ve been me, not her.
I stood between the rows of invited guests, merely another number lost in the grand space.
I force my eyes to leave her beaming face. My gaze lands on another landmine, my source of long repressed feelings. There you stand at the other side, back straight, form proper. Your normally stoic face broken into a soft smile, pupils wide and cheeks flushed. Waiting dutifully as she walks into your hands.
Oh how I envy her. It should've been me, not her.
Side by side, what a perfect pair you two make. I can’t help but imagine the what ifs.
What if it was me up there with you.
What if it was me who walked towards you.
What if it was me who held hands with you.
What if it was me, not her.
It should've been me, not her.
My smile bitter, hands clenched, body tense, heart breaking. It feels like a million tiny needles are pricking it. I watch her finally join you on the same steps, establishing a life together in love. I'm left all alone in the cold space.
Forcing my body to move, forcing my face to show nothing that betrays my emotion. I guess all that masking of my feelings towards you came in handy at the very last moment.
It feels like my chest has been pried open, my heart wrenched out of my control as it beats endlessly just for you. And all it got in return was a final hit that shattered it into pieces, leaving me scrambling on the floor to salvage what little of my heart is left.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It should've been me, not her.
Keeping a grip on myself isn't easy, you know?
It's fine. (It’s not.)
It's fine. (It’s not.)
It's fine. (It’s not.)
It should've been me, not her.
My heart grieves for what could’ve been. And it’s all my fault. If only I wasn't a coward. If only I wasn't scared. I'm making excuses.
I close my eyes shut when I see your faces come closer, the last thing I see are the happy couple’s teary eyes, and hands linked together, newly adorned with shiny rings. Cheers and applause sound around me, as I keep my eyes shut, holding the tears at bay.
I wish I was her.
When I open my eyes, they catch yours, as beautiful as the night sky, that’s what I told you once when we were drunk. But you don’t remember any of that. Am I glad? Or am I sad you don't recall it? Either way, it doesn’t matter now.
When all I see is you—but all you see is her. She's your whole world now, and you were mine. I watch my world quietly fall apart knowing I can't be selfish.
You two are glowing, marital bliss is a good look on you.
She's happy. You're happy. Final defeat floods my mind.
It should've been me, not her.
I wish I was her.
But she’s right where she’s supposed to be.