Christmas is coming

Three days until Christmas.

Flavio has orchestrated a dinner. The three of us. And somehow, in the planning of it, I've realized something: I'm not orchestrating anything. I'm being orchestrated.

Flavio is using me to make Mario jealous. Mario is using me as an escape from his life. And Anneka—poor Anneka—is at home waiting for me to wake up and realize that I'm repeating the same pattern.

I'm the victim again. Just with a prettier narrative.

Just with the belief that I'm in control when I'm really just another person being destroyed by people incapable of actual love.

The healing was real. But it was fragile. And the moment I stepped back into the orbit of men who are fundamentally incapable of seeing me as human, I started to break again.