I have been craving a wedding lately, and before you jump to conclusions, let me clarify that I do not want to get married, remarried, pre-married, or emotionally ambushed. I simply want to see a wedding. A proper one. The kind that happens by a river, with mountains standing quietly in the background like responsible elders who do not interfere. The sun should be setting at the horizon, doing that golden-hour thing photographers talk about, and the breeze should be cool enough to remind you that life can be gentle sometimes.

There should be food. Real food. The kind whose aroma reaches you before the waiter does. Food that makes you rethink all your life decisions related to portion control. As I sit there, colours should be mixing around me in perfect harmony, not the loud wedding colours that attack your eyes, but tasteful ones that whisper happiness instead of shouting it. Everything should look like it belongs exactly where it is.

And me. I am not part of it. This is important. I am sitting on a chair. A chair placed slightly to the side. Not the front row, not the family row, just a good observational angle. I am not participating, not dancing, not clapping on cue, not being pulled into group photos. I am there only to witness. Like a spectator in a live match where emotions are running high but none of the pressure is mine.

I want to watch people smile without wondering if I should be smiling too. I want to hear laughter without being asked why I am quiet. I want to enjoy love without being required to explain my relationship status, my life timeline, or my future plans. I want to see banter, teasing, inside jokes, and those small moments where people forget the camera is watching them. I want to borrow joy for a few hours and return it respectfully.

At some point during this fantasy, my brain does ask a very adult question. Is this normal. Is wanting to sit quietly at someone else’s happiness a sign of something being wrong. Should I be concerned that I want the beauty but not the involvement. Then I remember how exhausting participation has become. Every event now demands energy, opinions, explanations, and a performance. Sometimes you do not want to be a character. Sometimes you just want to be the audience.

This is not sadness. This is not detachment. This is not fear of love. This is emotional bandwidth management. This is wanting peace without paperwork. This is choosing a chair over the stage because the chair lets you breathe.

Maybe this craving exists because life lately has been noisy. Deadlines, responsibilities, expectations, and constant engagement leave very little room to simply observe something good without being questioned. A wedding like this becomes a safe place. A place where happiness exists independently of you, and you are allowed to enjoy it without earning it.

So no, this is not a mental illness. If anything, it is a sign of awareness. It is the understanding that joy does not always require participation. Sometimes the most satisfying thing you can do is sit quietly, feel the breeze, smell the food, watch the sun go down behind the mountains, and think that love is still happening in the world, and for now, that is enough.

Later.