Roger didn’t look at me as though I bedded his girlfriend. If he didn’t think that, why did Amelia? The lack of trust burned a whole new hole in my gut. Shrink-lady’s suggestion that there was probably a lot more going on than that, didn’t help.
Why is everything so complicated? Why wasn’t it enough that we loved each other? Maybe there’s no such thing as love. Maybe what we consider love is just a chemical reaction that constantly needs the perfect combination of inputs to maintain the molecular kinetics.
Love couldn’t be anything more than a specific alignment of synapses, electrical stimuli fooling our brain that we have more skin in life than we actually do.
I lack a lot of synaptic pathways.