Wallflower

Part of me is so jealous of you.  Jealous that I can’t be as free or as unencumbered as you.  Jealous that I can’t go out and get all of the guys at the party to make a pass at me like they do at you.  Jealous that I can’t relax.  Jealous that I can’t live life for now, that I’m too afraid of the future.
But maybe you should be weary of the future.  Because if you snap out of this, and you probably will, you might be embarrassed of what you’ve done.  I’ll still be jealous that I never let myself go, because I love how free you are now.

-Anon.

San Diego Shooter @ Flickr

Jealous

I hide it, but I get jealous. It’s not that I don’t trust you.  Your exes, your co workers, your friends—there are moments where I can’t help but question their intentions.  I put myself in their places.  I would look at you with me, and say that I’d won the lottery.  I’d wonder why on Earth you were with me.  I’d see your qualities and see a thin whisp of a man as a barrier.  To me, I’d look like a screen door blocking the federal reserve.

 

Perhaps I don’t get jealous.  Perhaps I’m just worried for my safety.  I’d be more than willing to knock down a screen door to get to you.

-Anon.