Jealousy is an ugly colour on anyone.
Perfection is the usual cause.
It's a ridiculous aim, & that's just common knowledge.
But striving for something better is all part of who we are.
From the outside looking in, you could say that my life is one to be envied. What with me being the typical skinny, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl most strive to be. Even digging deeper with the close nit family bonds every one sees, as well as being the middle child and the only girl. But let's not forget best friends anyone could ask for.
In reality however, no one knows what's going on behind closed doors. Things may seem to be perfect in people's lives that actually cause anger & hurt. But it's not until you learn what is really going on that you find that the closest thing to perfection anyone can find is happiness. Not for a lifetime or even for a month, just that one particular moment in time where there's no regrets, no envy, just pure joy.
Seeing the one person that you figured to be the cause of such a thing in your lifetime, plastered in front of you at every possibility, whether it's merely a coincidence or some sick joke, it hurts. The sheer volume of hate, jealousy & rage you never thought you'd be able to feel at all, never mind towards them are just overwhelming. It's all you can focus on. But what can you do but grin & bear it? When the only person you were ever able to talk honestly & completely to is the one causing you this unbearable hurt & pain?
I wouldn't call it heart ache, because refuse to believe I fell that hard that fast. Somewhere deep down I feel it though; although I shan't admit it to myself. I'm not ready for that step yet. But nevertheless, there should be no one else they would even look at, never mind consider to take my place beside him, as bitter & twisted as that sounds. For the short amount of time we knew each other, I thought he understood me fully and more so than even myself. I guess I couldn't have been more wrong. Of all the men, in all the world, it HAD to be him, and he HAD to walk in to the same club as me that night; the one that I couldn't escape from, no matter how much of a recluse I turned myself into.
I've accepted my fate after what people are claiming to be 'major drama'. After those unexpected occurrences, and my inability to cope with stress of it all, I've resorted back to my usual pessimistic habits. So for the rest of my life I know I'm going to be stuck in a horrible office job that I can't stand. And all I'll have to keep me warm at night is my multitude of cats, my dead dreams, and a distant far off memory of the closest thing to perfection I managed to find for myself.
I still deny this is what people call love, but here is my story…
