The girl in that photo had no idea that three years later on a sunny Sunday afternoon she'd pack a bag and drive away. She had no idea that she'd cry every time SNL came on. She had no idea that she'd spend Christmas alone ever again, or that her heart would literally ache in her chest when she drove past that exit, or that she'd be saving a seat for absolutely no one at church.
No one says "I do" and expects to file for divorce at 25. I certainly didn't, but here I am. And I'd like to tell you-- there is nothing glamorous about feeling like a failure, and there is nothing fun about splitting your belongings down the middle and bargaining crock pots for juicers or coffee pots for Pyrex dishes.
I'm hanging on by my fingernails, just barely.