Isn't it the bravest thing ever, to be jealous, to know that I'm jealous, to know of whom I'm jealous, and then to actually admit that I'm jealous? There are quite a number of things I could be jealous of, could be that she's a few years younger and doesn't have to worry about biological clocks like I might, it could be that she's obviously got faster metobolism than I do and doesn't have to feel mortified after every piece of cake she eats because she's an effortless size 8, it could be that extremely devoted boyfriend she has, the one with the broad shoulders and the big black SUV who caters to her every whim and need, but it's none of that.
And it's not because I'm jealous of her that her laughter often grates on my nerves. Her laughter is actually very annoying! What is she always laughing about anyways? She doesn't just laugh, she cackles! And it infuriates me.
And that's probably why I'm jealous. I'm jealous of the laughter that perpetually permeates through the windows of my room. I'm jealous of the inflow and outflow of traffic, like her apartment is the local neighbourhood church. I'm jealous of the bright shimmering colours of their short dresses at nights when they're going to places I imagine to be exotic, filled with loud music and alcohol. I'm jealous of her for her friends.
Ironic isn't it? Proud introvert that I am, finding solace in my solitude. Insisting that I love the drama free life that's a product of an absence of people. Decluttering every now and again; my wardrobe and my contact list. But when I hear their voices, their banter, their laughter, I sit in the silence of my room and wonder, what it must feel like to have a life filled with the chatter and clatter of an unending supply of friends.
Hello, my name is Thelma and I'm jealous of my neighbour.
Do you ever get jealous? 😟