I must admit to the occasional moment, probably due to random hormonal shifts or a temporarily misfiring synapse, when I actually feel a small twinge of sympathy for Crow. Yes, believe it or not, sometimes, briefly, I do feel sorry for her.
It doesn’t last long, mind you. Her brand of craziness is chosen, and her behavior and actions, however inexcusable, are deliberately orchestrated by her own hand.
But I have to wonder, after more than five years of shaking my head at Crow’s choices, what on earth can it possibly feel like?
What does it feel like to be so obsessed with me that she makes the conscious decision to follow me around online, use Wolverine’s facebook account to gain access to my profile (yes, that ploy wasn’t terribly discreet, Oh-Sly-One), and actually drive by our home?
What does it feel like to make her entire life revolve around a long-dead relationship she personally destroyed and a man who loves someone else?
What does it feel like to know her parents accept her incompetence and ineptitude so completely, they don’t even question her continued presence in their home and in their wallets five and a half years later?
What does it feel like, at the end of the day, to know that every decision she made was based on pleasing herself, and not one second’s thought was wasted upon considering the kids’ feelings or needs?
What does it feel like to settle for an artificial, arranged relationship with an equally desperate and unmarketable partner (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Uncle Fester with bloat), because no one else would ever tolerate her hysterics, outbursts, obsession with her ex-husband and his love, and her failure to create a life and move on?
What does it feel like to lie constantly about yourself so you don’t appear quite as completely pathetic to others?
Watching Crow pretend she is anything but a stalker and a loser is extremely sad. How can she have no desire to be better than what she is? How can she not want to do and be better for the kids’ sake?
In order to change or improve for the kids, though, she would have to care about them in the first place. I suppose I’ve answered my own question.
I couldn’t settle for lying non-stop to pretend I was somebody more than what I am. I couldn’t settle for surrounding myself only with people weak-minded enough to swallow my lies and not question anything I put in front of them. Most importantly, I couldn’t force the kids to settle for less just to make myself happy.