fiefoe

To wrap this up, neither A or B:

There was a change to Leonard’s pessimism about this time. It deepened; it purified. It lost its previous comedic habiliments, its air of shtick, and became unadulterated, lethal, pure despair.
at a time of year on the Cape when the brevity of daylight mimicked the diminishing wattage of his own brain
He studied harder than anyone he knew. But that was just his way of tightening his grip on the branch.
An aspiring depressive, at the time. That was the odd thing about Leonard’s disease, the almost pleasurable way it began.
It colonized every cell of his body, a concentrate of anguish seemingly secreted, drip by drip, into his veins like a toxic by-product of the previous days of mania.
What was interesting about being the needy one was how much in love you felt. It was almost worth it.
So there was at least that to be grateful for. The life that was ruined wasn’t entirely his.
The pauses in people’s speech were long enough for Leonard to drop off his laundry and return before they finished their sentences.
It turned out that Madeleine had a madwoman in the attic: it was her six-foot-three boyfriend.
The experience of watching Leonard get better was like reading certain difficult books.
The casino, with its buzzing, smoke-filled air, seemed like a projection of Leonard’s mania, a howling zone full of the nightmare rich, opening their mouths to place bets or cry for alcohol.

So what I’m doing in this letter is proactively breaking up with you. Our relationship has always defied categorization, so I guess it makes sense if this letter does too.
It was obvious that he’d never been able to read her at all. This thought sustained him for a good while,
Mitchell even resembled a few icons in the crumbling local church. Instead of providing a sense of homecoming, the experience sapped Mitchell, as if he’d been photocopied over and over again, a faint reproduction of some clearer, darker original.
also the aspects of his personality that had made her feel such a letter necessary, his awkwardness, his charm, his aggressiveness, his shyness, everything that made him almost but not quite the guy for her. The letter felt like a verdict on his entire life so far, sentencing him to end up here,
Being alone, in the poorest city on earth, where he didn’t know anyone, pay phones were nonexistent, and mail service slow, didn’t end this romantic farce, but it got Mitchell offstage.
His chronic credulity began flaring up.

"The Marriage Plot" [.] (Reply)