The Worst Best Man

by Mia Sosa

If I’d been a stronger person, I would have stormed out and never looked back. But as I stood there watching him make someone else feel special, my insides squeezing my heart until I thought it would pop out of my chest, I was overwhelmed by profound sadness. Not eat-my-weight-in-chocolate sadness. Or even lie-in-bed-and-stare-at-the-ceiling sadness. No, this was far worse. It was I-can’t-contain-any-of-this-inside-me sadness. So I crumbled. Made accusations as tears ran down my face. Wailed. Dropped to my knees like a melodramatic actress auditioning for a part as an extra in a B movie. It was ugly. And awkward. Painfully awkward. And when I looked up at the faces of my schoolmates, all I saw was pity. A loss of respect I’d never regain. And all because I couldn’t control my emotions. I vowed in that moment that I’d never let anyone or anything reduce me to that embarrassing state again.