A sea of complaints
Rex used to make these mean little remarks no one else understood but me. I was always going out of my mind when he did that. Others could only see that I was mad, not that there was a reason.
He liked to convince people to think about me the same as he did, mostly badly. With some he succeeded, with some he didn’t.
I guess he wanted to be with me because I represented a lot of things he needed to oppose. He defined his identity by fighting me all day long. Sometimes I was quiet and then there was peace. But I’m not a quiet person, I like to express myself.
I didn’t want to be a victim, so I fought back. I fought hard, with words. At times I brought him down.
The fact that I did that doesn’t mean that I was happy doing it.