While New Year’s Eve left me reeling, as Cazzatore and I ended things and I spent the night in a daze/crying, we had decided to carry on as usual for a bit. To pretend that it hadn’t happened, at least while I was still living with him. And then, the next day, while he was comforting me from the pain he inflicted, he asked, “couldn’t we pretend it didn’t happen for a year, or more?”. As I was left in a vacuum of insecurity, we continued to sleep next to each other and walk hand in hand. We were pretending like it didn’t happen, but I knew it did happen. It felt as if all of the air had been removed forcefully from my body, and I was supposed to rebuild pieces of shattered flesh with scotch tape.
In the last couple of days, though, there is the illusion that things have been really good. He has been great to me, and from all appearances, nothing has changed. He himself asked, “but what’s really changed?”. So it appears we are still dating for the moment, which is silly, but sometimes there is nothing to do but avoid the hurt by hanging on. But now I have the knowledge of that pain, and will try not to be so easily led to that place again. I am wary.
Yesterday we went to the Florence Ikea, so that I could get a relatively cheap blanket. We walked close together, hands clasped, millions of atoms touching. The irony of the end is that I feel closer to him now than I have in a long time. And when he helped me take some stuff to my new place, my new roommate asked if he was my boyfriend and he said yes. And I said, “É complicato“- it’s complicated. And so it is. I’m not really sure what we are. And though I am confused and wary, I am happy to be able to spend a little more time at his side and in his embrace. Only time will tell where our paths take us.
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