From Rachel’s Diary I keep calling tonight harmless
From Rachel’s Diary:
I keep calling tonight harmless. That word should worry me more than it does.
Dinner doesn’t look like damage when it’s sitting politely across from you. It smiles. It remembers your tells. It knows exactly how to make the past feel inevitable instead of reckless.
Dominic isn’t louder in person. He’s closer. Like distance was the only thing keeping me intact.
Paris has been teaching me restraint—how to watch without touching, how to let want exist without feeding it. René would say that’s the work. I believe him. Which is why tonight feels like sabotage dressed up as nostalgia.
I’m not pretending I don’t want this. I’m pretending I can control it.
I chose my clothes carefully. Not to entice him—but to remind myself who I am right now, not who I was when giving in felt like freedom.
It’s only dinner.
That’s the lie I’m walking out the door with.