If I didn't believe it, it wouldn't be a delusion.
The fundamental delusion, I think, is this: the unshakeable belief that she holds a magic key that would unlock a state of permanent bliss.
I know that the key is forever beyond my reach.
What I can't shake is the belief that the key exists and that, if I could grasp it, I would be in nirvana.
The ghastly thing is that my alienation from her serves only to reinforce the delusion. The invisible wall feels so real. If there is nothing to desire, why does the wall exist? Its very existence seems proof that I am being denied access to something real.
I sometimes flirt with the idea that we could somehow have a normal friendship. It'd be nice to be able to remove her from the pedestal upon which I have placed her and see her as a normal person with all her charms and flaws, to deal with the reality of her husband and their child.
But I just can't imagine how that could ever happen. She'd have to want to offer it to me, and that would take a gigantic and unjustified leap of faith in me for her to do that. Why would she risk getting entangled with me again?
Of course, I could not help but fall in love with the generosity of spirit that would be required to take that risk, thereby justifying the fears that would prevent it from being taken in the first place.
And so the tragic wheel continues to spin - proving that, in the universe of emotion, there is no second law of thermodynamics.