I Know Others Have Been Jealous Of Me
Please do not get me wrong — I usually roll my eyes at the whole “people are jealous of me!” thing. It is perfectly possible to dislike someone for reasons beyond jealousy. However, I did had one “friend” (whom I will now call “E”) in the past who treated me awfully due to jealousy. It took a long time for me to realize it, but it is as clear as day to me now.
Here are some of the things she pulled on me:
• When our mutual friend was writing a book based off of our group of friends, she demanded that he change the description of my character’s appearance. He wrote my character in a very flattering light, but she said that he had to change it because my character was not allowed to be prettier than hers.
• E frequently told me that I was not pretty or beautiful enough for passionate love. She said that I am not the kind of girl that musicians sing about. She would try to soften these comments by adding that I was “cute,” but of course that never helped.
• One time we were all talking about categories of attractiveness and where we might all fit in them (lol, I guess we were pretty shallow). I was deemed to be “cute,” but one of our guy friends said, “but you’ll probably get hot too when we’re older.” She immediately shut him down.
• I usually wore jeans and baggy shirts and kept my hair in my face, but I had to dress up for a performance during the summer. I pulled my hair back in a half-up, half-down style and wore a boat-neck shirt and a long skirt. I hardly showed any skin, but my clothes were form fitting in a flattering way. I looked put together. My friends ran up to me after the show and said that I looked great. One of them told me that I was not fat at all like I kept saying I was and that I was merely curvy. Then they said that I should dress like that all the time. E’s response? “I thought you looked trashy and even kinda slütty. Jeez, what would those kids’ parents think?” (We were all assistant camp counsellors at a theatre summer camp. The kid who was supposed to play the mother in my class’ show got sick, so I replaced her.)
• The following will only make sense if I explain E’s personality a bit, so here we go. She was an extremely dramatic person. She was not above lying about having a drug addiction just to get attention from people. She blew things out of proportion constantly just so that we would all focus on her all the time. She tried to create problems where there were none... me, on the other hand? I was fifteen years old and two years out of a psychotic depressive episode. I just wanted to be normal. I still had a lot of emotional as well as environmental problems, but I did not flaunt them. I eventually opened up to E about my problems, however. I figured that maybe it would help to open up to someone about them...
• In the November of 2005, I was sexually assaulted on a bus. I really do not want to go into details about it here, but I will say that I was not raped. Anyway. I told her about it at school. I also told the school counselor. E came home with me that day and left before the cops showed up. We also called our good guy friend (the same one I mentioned a few times already). Her coming home with me that day was the only supportive thing she did throughout the whole ordeal. Very soon afterwards she started to treat me very bizarrely. I just wanted things to go back to normal, but she acted out by freaking out in the middle of drama class. Everyone rushed to her aid, but she did not tell anyone what was wrong. I was pissed off at her for making a scene, but I brushed it off and did not say anything about it.
A week later she told me that our guy friend told her that because he did not know how to help me, he would help her instead. Because she was the one who needed the most support, obviously... (that was sarcasm for those of you who did not catch it.)
A couple of weeks later I shuddered when we walked past a guy who reminded me of my assaulter. She rolled her eyes and told me to “just get over it already.”
Eventually she ditched me completely. That would not have been so bad if she had not also turned everyone else against me. She was the Queen Bee of theatre school, so everyone stopped talking to me when it became clear that she hated me. I was intentionally left out of everything they did outside of class and rehearsals, and they intentionally made my life difficult when I was there too. She did the same thing at regular school as well. When I started to befriend a group of seniors, she befriended them too and told them some nasty things about me. Whenever I walked by them in the hallway, they would mouth things like “slüt” at me. I spent a lot of lunches alone that year.
I believe that the reason why E did all of this was because she was jealous of the fact that I actually had problems. She was jealous of the fact that I was mentally ill, jealous of the fact that I had a fücked up family, and jealous of the fact that I had been victimized. I know how messed up that sounds, but I cannot think of why else she would do those horrible things, especially considering what her personality was like. She could not stand the fact that I actually was the “tragic artist” that she so desperately wanted to be. Have you ever heard of the enneagram? It is a personality classification system. There are nine different types along with various sub-types. She was the one who introduced me to it. She told me that she tested as a Seven, also known as “the enthusiast.” My result was Four — also known as “the individualist,” “the romantic,” or “the artist.” Fours are the archetypal tragic poets. That was who she wanted to be, and she was pissed that I was that kind of person without even trying. What she failed to realize by being friends with me was that that kind of personality is nowhere near as romantic as it looks on the outside. All she saw was the image — not the reality.
Anyway, that is my story. Thank you for reading all of it if you did.
Here are some of the things she pulled on me:
• When our mutual friend was writing a book ba
• E frequently told me that I was not pretty or beautiful enough for passionate love. She said that I am not the kind of girl that musicians sing about. She would try to soften these comments by adding that I was “cute,” but of course that never helped.
• One time we were all talking about categories of attractiveness and where we might all fit in them (lol, I guess we were pretty shallow). I was deemed to be “cute,” but one of our guy friends said, “but you’ll probably get hot too when we’re older.” She immediately shut him down.
• I usually wore jeans and baggy shirts and kept my hair in my face, but I had to dress up for a performance during the summer. I pulled my hair back in a half-up, half-down style and wore a boat-neck shirt and a long skirt. I hardly showed any skin, but my clothes were form fitting in a flattering way. I looked put together. My friends ran up to me after the show and said that I looked great. One of them told me that I was not fat at all like I kept saying I was and that I was merely curvy. Then they said that I should dress like that all the time. E’s response? “I thought you looked trashy and even kinda slütty. Jeez, what would those kids’ parents think?” (We were all assistant camp counsellors at a theatre summer camp. The kid who was supposed to play the mother in my class’ show got sick, so I replaced her.)
• The following will only make sense if I explain E’s personality a bit, so here we go. She was an extremely dramatic person. She was not above lying about having a drug addiction just to get attention from people. She blew things out of proportion constantly just so that we would all focus on her all the time. She tried to create problems where there were none... me, on the other hand? I was fifteen years old and two years out of a psychotic depressive episode. I just wanted to be normal. I still had a lot of emotional as well as environmental problems, but I did not flaunt them. I eventually opened up to E about my problems, however. I figured that maybe it would help to open up to someone about them...
• In the November of 2005, I was sexually assaulted on a bus. I really do not want to go into details about it here, but I will say that I was not raped. Anyway. I told her about it at school. I also told the school counselor. E came home with me that day and left before the cops showed up. We also called our good guy friend (the same one I mentioned a few times already). Her coming home with me that day was the only supportive thing she did throughout the whole ordeal. Very soon afterwards she started to treat me very bizarrely. I just wanted things to go back to normal, but she acted out by freaking out in the middle of drama class. Everyone rushed to her aid, but she did not tell anyone what was wrong. I was pissed off at her for making a scene, but I brushed it off and did not say anything about it.
A week later she told me that our guy friend told her that because he did not know how to help me, he would help her instead. Because she was the one who needed the most support, obviously... (that was sarcasm for those of you who did not catch it.)
A couple of weeks later I shuddered when we walked past a guy who reminded me of my assaulter. She rolled her eyes and told me to “just get over it already.”
Eventually she ditched me completely. That would not have been so bad if she had not also turned everyone else against me. She was the Queen Bee of theatre school, so everyone stopped talking to me when it became clear that she hated me. I was intentionally left out of everything they did outside of class and rehearsals, and they intentionally made my life difficult when I was there too. She did the same thing at regular school as well. When I started to befriend a group of seniors, she befriended them too and told them some nasty things about me. Whenever I walked by them in the hallway, they would mouth things like “slüt” at me. I spent a lot of lunches alone that year.
I believe that the reason why E did all of this was because she was jealous of the fact that I actually had problems. She was jealous of the fact that I was mentally ill, jealous of the fact that I had a fücked up family, and jealous of the fact that I had been victimized. I know how messed up that sounds, but I cannot think of why else she would do those horrible things, especially considering what her personality was like. She could not stand the fact that I actually was the “tragic artist” that she so desperately wanted to be. Have you ever heard of the enneagram? It is a personality classification system. There are nine different types along with various sub-types. She was the one who introduced me to it. She told me that she tested as a Seven, also known as “the enthusiast.” My result was Four — also known as “the individualist,” “the romantic,” or “the artist.” Fours are the archetypal tragic poets. That was who she wanted to be, and she was pissed that I was that kind of person without even trying. What she failed to realize by being friends with me was that that kind of personality is nowhere near as romantic as it looks on the outside. All she saw was the image — not the reality.
Anyway, that is my story. Thank you for reading all of it if you did.
By:
ariel89
Age:
22-25
,
Female
5
responses
