Ever read that book, Rebecca? By Daphne Du Maurier? I feel like the heroine. She is Rebecca. He...he...I don't know what he is. Not like Max. He confuses me to no end. Like Max, he says he loves my differences from her, but, like the never-named heroine, I can see there is aspects of *dundun*, her, that he would like me to have. That upsets me. I want to know my Rebecca, talk to her, find out what she's really like. But not from my Max. I wish he wouldn't talk about her. I remember once he said "She had a really hot body." Thanks a fucking million, thumbs up, smoooth operator you are. Who in there right mind, tells their girlfriend that their ex was hot?
And so, I turned to my obsessive stalkerish activities. But, I just made my problem worse, seeing my Rebecca, finding out tiny little tidbits about her, just smooshed my self esteem into the ground. What if she comes back? What if she starts talking to him again? If Rebecca came back from the grave, would our dear Max go running back to her and her "really hot body"?
Unnnnnn. So confusing. I fear my goal to get involved in his hobbies, be a bit more like her, is like the heroines megafail at dressing as Rebecca to the fancy dress party. I hate this shit. Die die die, bang bang, stranger girl who gives me headache.
And if you've never read Rebecca, I'm sure this made a world of sense to you.
It's funny how this eats at me every single day, and he has no clue. But I can't tell him.
*dies* xx
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