Living my Truth: Jealousy

Jealousy, for what it is worth is a big pill to swallow, I have spent some time being surrounded by people I love and admire, yet I find myself looking at what they have, spouses, children, any form of success, things that I do not have, have yet to acquire, wondering if I will ever see anything like that in my life time. Every time I smile I feel as though I am forcing myself to gloss over a burning feeling of decay in the stench of bitterness. Ever kiss, intimate hug, soft glances that have no connection to me have me feeling suffocated, the claustrophobia has reached right into my chest, squeezing as it jabs a finger injecting pure despair.

What is it about me that leaves me hollowed out, a wraith stuck in the limbo of opportunity and the edge of madness of touching love. Why is it never me? Even when people manage to find completely damaging relationships they still have something even if it means they will end up at square one they have some one that begins to fill a void that for myself I have always wanted filled. I thought that at one point between finding myself and finding my truth I would find happiness, I ended up empty on both ends. So I keep digging my hole bigger, at the hands of random sexual partners, the more hands the bigger the hole, the more my jealousy grows cause it does nothing more than add to the debt.

I wonder what it feels like to have someone who actually wants to be with me, who can have me feeling emotions I have never got the chance to feel, to understand what it feel happiness that I could not live without after I tasted it. Someone to complete me and be a part of so many first’s in my life. Instead of living in chronic illness, jealousy that makes my bones ache, bitterness that fills my lungs with a thick plume of smoke, anger like tears that burn out my eyes and peal my skin, despair like chained hooks pierced deep into my skin, tearing and always giving me the shortest reach, on my knees with my sins, of nothing more than a heart of hardened regret.

I have wanted nothing more than to kill love and all who have it, why? It feels like it’s a treasure or secret that I just can’t seem to find, and those who find it I wonder why they get to and I don’t, why I never get love but I can watch everyone else. There are too many days I wish I could spread my misery like an airborne plague and watch others choke to death on my jealousy, to desecrate everything people hold dear, instead of being surrounded by the constant reminders wondering what am I doing here, around people I call friends and simple strangers and why I am even around, keeping myself from simply breaking down trying to be in the middle of memories that are really to be shared by the married and parents, none of which I am.

So when I know that I am too weak to keep treading water I learn to read my own social que and I get the hell out of there and deal by myself. It’s hard to not feel like you are not in people’s way, interrupting their happiness at least that is what I looks like in my world. Feels like I do nothing but fight a losing battle of trying to be worthy of a concept that obviously I was never going to have, so to be honest I don’t believe it gets better, life just gets honest and I sleep easier caring less.

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