I was so sure I was going to write something so profound today. The kind of something you’d read and would have you thinking and re-evaluating, but I have nothing. I came up short. I am anxious and filled with dread. I want things that aren’t mine yet. I crave things I have no business wanting. Jealously is now my daily companion. I hate it and I am filled with disgust at myself.
On the outside, I appear whole, put together and kind. My insides, however, reek of jealously and envy. I look at what others have and all I see is what I don’t have, what I want. I crave for their life, the flashy life. I want what they have, what I want, and I want it now. I want to wake up and not feel like nothing. I want decisions to revolve around me too. Who decided that I am unworthy of the finer things of life? Why does it appear that everyone around me and for as far as my eyes can see is in no apparent lack yet here I am living off struggle to struggle?
Of course, I have nothing big and powerful to write. I don’t feel any big or powerful. I want to run and hide. Rather than face the truth and admit why I appear to a recluse, I tell them that’s just who I am. I convince myself I don’t want too much of everything. I appear to be serene and kind on the surface meanwhile there’s a whole storm brewing inside me. I try to beat back jealousy and envy and I succeed, but just barely. I think that each time they come back stronger.
I want and want and want. I want all of the things I know to no weigh on the measure of my importance or my right to exist yet I am still unable to walk with my head held high. Constantly pretending to love the shadows because it is easier to hide who I am in the dark.
I fear that one day jealously and envy will win. Then everything I would do would be in service to them. I would worship at their altar and tender sacrifices in their name. I would do this once, twice and then often till I stink outwardly because what other way can disgust be expressed? I am screaming for help inside but on the outside, I might as well be a replica of Gandhi—kind and sage.
I am neither of those things. I am jealous and envious. I want what I want, essentially a covetous one. I compare myself with any and everyone. I see the pitying looks the exchange and it burns. I go to sleep at night fantasising about all the ways I am going to level up and eventually one-up them. I dread waking up and facing my realities. I do not like being awake.
Everything hurts. Everything.
