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The ceremony was one of great proportions, much to my displeasure. It was also one of social intermingling, despite protests from the upper class. Nevertheless, the night was rather enjoyable, I cannot remember feeling so relaxed. Even now the drunkenness clung to me, the quietness of the night embodying my mental state. Izzy’s breathing is a steady, soothing sound, and her heat radiates through me from her touch. We are curled up in the bed, her head resting in the nook of my shoulder, she has long fallen victim to sleep. This is the closest to home I’ve ever felt, with her I feel a security unlike none I’ve known before. She knows my every thought, and my deepest convictions, I withhold nothing from her, and I never will. Some say it’s a burden being married, and for some it maybe, but for me it is freedom. I am no longer alone in life, I have in Izzy a partner, a confidant, she is part of my whole. I have a precious balance which without her would be in disarray. Perhaps our fault is we view marriage as bondage, instead of viewing it as liberation. This is liberation in every way, the way we are, our coexistence. I turned looking at the big clock adorning a startling blue wall, it is nearly three am, and I’m no closer to sleep than I was when we entered our bed. Nearly four hours had passed since the last part of me was given away, the very last I had to offer her sacrificed. We passed in that moment the love we had before. We ceased being mentally innocent years ago, and now our physical innocence was shed as well. Even in sleep she is beautiful, her head crowned by messy hair, and her smooth features relaxed. She is slightly dwarfed by my shirt she wears, and her long slender legs are intertwined with mine. The years ahead would be hard, but with her I could face the world with a smile.
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