And it’s killing me. I am living her life and her fears and her insecurities. But the scary thing is I am reliving her life and through the eyes of me only 30 years younger.
I remember the day she thought I was her rival; the day she first saw me as competition for her lovers…the day she knew I could potentially be…
I remember the way she looked at me with a terrifying lust, her mind clouded in a drunken haze. The way she looked at me and was tempted…and in that moment I hated her.
She was wrong on so many levels.
I think she tried to love me. I think a part of her did.
But she failed miserably.
She should have kept her cunt closed.