Hello, my name is jealousy.
For as long as he could remember he was alone. Not in the way that he had no companionship. Having a friend to confide in was never really a problem. He always had a body to share those intangible ideals with. Love. Hate. Jealousy. Regret. How common these feelings were in his life, and yet he wonders if those emotions are really significant to him at all. The words were created to define and generalize things that weren't meant to be tamed in that way. He starts to feel inadequate. As all boys do sooner or later. Why feel unworthy? The only being that is capable of making him hurt is himself. No god is pointing a finger at him. There was never any divine plan that mapped out his life. Only him and his shortcomings. Well, If the only one that can raise his spirits was him then he might as well try. He'll get up another morning and lie there alone again. Staring at the swirling fan that adorns his ceiling. The circular motion. The cycle. Why get up today? What could possibly happen in the next 14 hours that makes life worth living? Laughing at how dramatic he can be when he is alone he rises from his bed and goes out to greet his world once again. His world of shortcomings. His world of loving certain individuals that justly deserve it. Then, in turn, hating them for what they have which in turn makes him jealous of everything they do that makes them happy. Regretting that he will one day know he shouldn't feel this way. Maybe he'll be too far gone by then to care, because as far as he knows he will be alone. For, As long as he can remember he has been alone.