I stroll quietly beneath a cover of timber, their leaves rustling within the breeze towards the thunderous sound of the waterfalls roaring forward. What I’m doing is admittedly cliché: a girl misplaced within the jungle of her thoughts on the wild borders of Argentina and Brazil. I’m mountaineering alongside the paths of Iguazú Nationwide Park, the place a god generally known as M’Boi is presupposed to have slashed the earth in a jealous rage after falling in love with an Indigenous lady named Naipi. It’s stated that Naipi’s magnificence was so arresting that it may halt the flowing waters of the Iguaçu River. Though she was in love with a mortal man named Tarobá, the deity desired the girl for himself. Because the story goes, the god punished the lover’s makes an attempt to flee by violently slashing the river and creating the waterfalls we all know immediately.

I’m devastated by Iguazú’s magnificence, pissed off even. It feels foolish to face right here taking selfies – my arm outstretched at an odd angle and messy hair held again by a thrifted DKNY scarf – as if I needs to be paying homage to this view by way of sonnets and interpretive dance as an alternative.

Round me, households and {couples} are starting to trickle down the elevated wood walkways, selecting up tempo because the timber reveal Satan’s Throat in all its glory. As tempting as it’s to remain right here by the falls, letting the swelling crowds and roaring water drown out my ideas, I do know I should be alone. I’ve come to Iguazú Nationwide Park to lastly cease avoiding myself. I flip away from the waterfalls and hike down one of many round trails winding by way of the jungle. The farther I stroll, the extra I’m enveloped by wilderness, the roar of the cascades and the crowds of spectators slowly falling away, and instantly, I’m alone. So alone that if I cease transferring, the unnerving silence is punctuated solely by my respiratory and the occasional name of the capuchin monkeys above me. I really feel a surge of anxiousness as I ask myself aloud:

“What’s it it’s a must to say?”

Admittedly, I’ve felt my inside voice tugging at my sleeve for months, making an attempt to seize my consideration and get me to face nonetheless lengthy sufficient to listen to it. I’m now far sufficient from different those who I really feel comfy speaking to myself. I let the query linger for a second earlier than an exasperated response roars out of me.

“I DON’T WANT TO GET MARRIED!”

I virtually scream the phrases with such pressure that I spot a couple of plush-crested jays with their tuxedo-like markings flutter to the sky.

“I DON’T WANT TO GET MARRIED!”

I really feel as if I’ve simply kicked myself to the ocean’s floor, inhaling for the primary time, letting my physique fill with oxygen as my thoughts begins to regular. Right here is the ultimate frontier, the phrases which have been floating in cloudy fragments these previous few months, lastly coalescing.

I don’t wish to get married as a result of I’m not prepared.