A request for Travis's reaction to the album.
It wasn't to say the fear disappears completely. She isn't stupid; there's always the terrifying possibility that all of this could blow up one day, that the dizzying thrill of love might come crashing down, whether the explosion comes internally or from the world around them. Maybe Travis won't be the person she thought he was...maybe she'd come to believe the outside chatter claiming she was poison.
But another piece of her, the part that relies on hope, knows that this isn't like anything she's had before. There's a sense of peace that was never present in any other relationship, an understanding that soothes her ever present anxiety without reassurance, though he's excellent at giving her that, too.
As time passes, she grows more confident, embraces this for what it is, takes in the knowledge that what they have is special, that Travis is special.
Music is her comfort, writing is her voice when she's too scared or intimidated to speak, when it's too painful to communicate verbally...has been since she was twelve years old and she holds onto to some of that. Pours everything into the pages of a journal that sees most of its musings at a time of morning when the rest of the world is sleeping.
There had come a time where Joe shut her out. Stopped speaking to her...a passing ship in the night, a ghost. Out, went her thoughts onto paper, mixed with runaway tears; an admission of failure. No one to talk to, to explain...because there was no explanation. She was holding onto to the thinnest of ropes, watching as it became more and more frayed.
There had come a time where Matty had taken off without a backwards glance, leaving her gasping for breath before she had a chance to ask questions, head spinning, leaving her to wonder if the whole thing was some fever dream turned hellish nightmare. Again, what didn't make sense, every feeling that threatened to rip her limb from limb got jotted down in an angry, confused scrawl, the hurt no longer allowed to eat her up from the inside because once it was written, she could begin to process.
There had come a time where she had to take a good long look at herself and ask if love was futile. If she screamed to the sky and into the heavens, would it matter? A question of not being good enough, never good enough for anyone. Not an unfamiliar inquiry; a running stream that flowed through her head, water building up and she couldn't quite reach shore.
Write it down, write it down, her brain urged her. Write it down and then let it go.
Please
I've been on my knees
Change the prophecy
Don't want money
Just someone who wants my company
Let it once be me
Who do I have to speak to
About if they can redo
The prophecy?
An answered prayer, she thinks now. More than exorcising it from her soul...written exactly one month to the day Travis attended the show at Arrowhead. A sign of what was to come.
There are still certain things that go into the journal. Pages and pages of thoughts, but they're filled with love instead of fear. As their relationship progresses, she can re-read them back and pinpoint when songs were conceived; a precise recording of the chances she gave him to run away because she feared she destroyed everything she touched.
But it's become more and more common these days to confide in him when insecurity creeps in. It does for him, too. He's only human and despite his enormous confidence, he's anxious about what he does and says at the beginning, knowing what she's been through and where she was coming from. They're patient with each other and it wasn't something that was collectively learned or worked on. It was innately there and the gratefulness sank into her bones.
