Observations

The lunch was exactly what I expected. Mario exposed himself. Simona rejected him. Anneka watched the whole thing like she was documenting a nature program.

And I sat there and said nothing.

Because what could I say? That I understand his obsession? That I've been obsessed with the same kind of thing my entire life? That the only difference between me and Mario is that I'm smart enough not to declare it publicly?

Simona and Anneka are together. That much was obvious from the way they touched each other. Not in obvious ways. Just small things. Anneka's hand on Simona's arm. Anneka's eyes always coming back to Simona. Anneka's presence somehow making Simona feel safer.

I want that. Not them, obviously. But that kind of connection. That kind of being seen.

I've invented Bonnie because the alternative—admitting what I actually want—is too terrifying. But how long can I keep that up?

New York is in three weeks. Maybe I'll stay there. Maybe I'll actually become someone different like I keep telling myself I want to.

But I know I won't. I know I'll come back to Rome and I'll come back to Mario and I'll keep pretending that I'm content watching from the outside while he destroys himself on the inside.

That's who I am. The observer. The person who sees everything but changes nothing.