Requiem of the Ivory Bride: An Ode to the Seven Deadly Sins

Overture to the Ivory Bride

c. MakJoCah, 2013. All rights reserved.

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A bride is to present herself on her wedding day as pure, virginal dressed in white. This is the picture of what it's supposed to be. But you, you have undermined everything that a bride in white stands for. You approach your groom broken, tattered, and as a whore. You're the ivory bride, not fit to wear white.

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The Overture to the Ivory Bride

After waiting for an half hour, I was ushered into the stuffy office of the psychotherapist. It was dimly lit and between the oversized brown couches and the crowded bookshelves, I got the sneaking suspicion that this would be yet another lame attempt at fixing myself.

"Welcome back, Kyle. Why don't you sit down and we'll get started," the doctor said, preparing his steno pad to write down all my problems.

I sat, unsure if my posture gave him some kind of Freudian insight into my condition. I decided to look him square on, yet in the back of my mind I wondered if that would be psychoanalyzed.

Damn, I hate these places.

"Let's pick up where we left off. Let's keep discussing the others in your life," he said as he took his glasses off and put them atop his balding head.

Oh Jesus, help me. Not this.

"Um, okay," I replied, clearing my throat. I hated talking about them. I just wanted to get better, to finally feel happy.

"Are you able to talk about them today?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows, accusing in his own way.

"That's okay, I can try. Which one do you want to start with?" I shifted, uncomfortable giving him this control over me.

"Let's see," he replied, looking back through my file as if my problems were just on paper. "Let's pick back up with Janeli."

She wasn't as bad as the others. I could talk about Janeli. So I began...