The elegy moved me strongly in that I can easily envision the writer. I've been there in my own way on many occasions. I think everyone has been through that period when a love is lost and you wonder if it is your fault, if it is some secret desire on your part mindlessly played out against all your known wishes. You wonder if your perceptions are skewed. If they are are you mad? How would you know.
Self-doubt is insidious. It can't be questioned because the self is not verifiable by anyone else. Reality is subjective. How can anyone know they are not alone?
And nothing makes it easier.