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
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.