What Treachery Is This?I am new to jealousy.
I have never wanted for things. Although my childhood was certainly far from spartan, frugality somehow found its way beyond my knowing, and wove itself into my perspective upon the world.
Want for nothing; never be disappointed for the not having; no pressure on the world, people or present to provide.
Even when in the midst of my serial infatuations with women unavailable by virtue of being in relationships, I was never jealous nor envious of the person that they had chosen.
I did not think it was in my nature.
More fool me.
Love, when it finally comes, follows you everywhere. Unrequited, it is as dogged as the hounds of hell come to fetch you back down to the inferno, their teeth sunk deep into your hamstrings, your fingernails clawing at the ground.
You're not ready to go, of course. Perhaps you've finally something that makes unequivocal sense despite the complete lack of reason. Instead, jealousy seeps off the edges of those fangs, mixes with your blood, until every pulse risks envy lashing out with its whip of hatred. Against all those who've touched her, will touch her; those that she's chosen, wanted or loved; those errant fools who are in her day-to-day life but know not what glory slips by their unseeing eyes; past, present, future; no limits from time and space, no boundary between actuality and possibility. Thin threads of violence against the world, a once good nature unraveled.