Half the size of a regular tome, this small journal seems as full of scraps of paper and notes as it does pages. It is covered in an old fox pelt. The writing within it is flowing and well practiced. There are doodles in the margins of each entry.
Saturday, 20 April 2019
I danced for him today, barefooted on a dusty forgotten stage. I was playing there when he found me and the movements seemed so right. I danced to nothing but the rhythm he created with his hands upon the stage and the humming of his lips. It wasn't like the proper dances, those learned under the watchful eye of my instructors. That wasn't dancing, so controlled and choreographed. This was dancing as it should be, the abandonment of everything save the movement of my body and the rhythm of his hands and voice. I danced with such freedom, arms up and swaying as they pleased. There is something about the way I feel in his gaze that gives me confidence.
There is an understanding between us that wasn't there before. It is an understanding of trust and safety. I know he can take whatever storm I might send his way, take it and tame it and control the raging inside of me. I do not have to walk that precipice with him, that constant doubt that one misstep will send him running and leave me fallen. He will not allow it. I've pushed him to the brink and he has pulled me back, tested each limit and run up against an unscalable wall and broken each boundary only to have him build them up again. He has dragged me kicking and screaming through the darkest of my moods. And finally, finally I believe him.
Viviyana posted @ 23:18 -
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