And When The Night Is Cloudy There Is Still A Light That Shines On Me
Lest We Forget The feelings of grief, anger, and betrayal after the discovery of the affair have made me see the world through a cataract eye. Nothing is clear or concise. There are no clearly defined borders. There is no good or evil in this story. Jenny isn't a child eating ogre who is never kind to me, who lashes out in anger all the time. She presents, generally, as loving and kind, even when texting with Eric the pinche motherfucker. She is, though, intentionally choosing to do something incredibly painful to me, and doesn't care enough about me to stop hurting me every single day. That she acts lovingly toward me just fucks with my head. She walks around seemingly oblivious that the fact that she refuses to stop the affair while she is dying makes me feel like I am standing in a wind tunnel on a bed of nails. This dissonance, both cognitive and emotional, makes me feel all the more like I have lost the plot here. I love her. I car...