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There’s nothing stranger than saying “I’m getting married the day after tomorrow.”

I mean, maybe saying “I’m getting married tomorrow” might top that, which is what I’ll be saying tomorrow.

I’m not letting myself overthink anything. After all, the wedding is just a thirty-minute long ceremony. All I’m doing is promising my best friend that I will love him forever, which is something I made up my mind that I would do about a year ago.

Everything about this wedding feels so perfectly natural. I’ve wanted it to happen for so long.

But here’s the thing:

I’ve been in a lot of plays. I’ve always had plenty of reason to be nervous. Lines weren’t always in my head, costumes weren’t always finished in time and weren’t guaranteed to stay in place, and blocking was always a little touch-and-go. Yet no matter how precarious the upcoming performance might be, I wouldn’t get nervous until the day of, nay, hours before the curtain rose. And that nervousness would find me in a dark corner, shivering, alone with my feelings of anxiety and a tentative urge to lose the contents of my stomach.

I am a mere 36 hours away from my wedding, and I am not nervous.

Yet.

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