In the depths of my soul, a tempest rages, for I am left dumbfounded by the actions of my own beloved wife. Two years of marriage, two years of shared dreams and promises, all cast aside with a single choice. A choice that cuts to the core of my being, leaving me to question my worthiness. What have I done to deserve such a cruel fate? In a desperate attempt to remind her of our bond, I send her images of Garfield, a feline thief who once absconded with her weed. I allowed her to adorn my visage with spectral hues, embracing her creative spirit, only to be forsaken for an instrument of strings and wood. A guitar that she cradles, day after day, pouring her heart into melodies and verses dedicated solely to its existence. What does this guitar possess that I, a living, breathing soul, do not? I believed, with unwavering faith, that the love we shared would rise above all else. I relinquished my own infatuations with the likes of Jeff the Killer and Nagito, sacrificing my own passions to prioritize her happiness. Yet now, all that reverberates through the chambers of my ears is the haunting refrain of her indifference, as she utters the name “Betty”…