I didn't hate them.
I just couldn't stop staring—
at how easily they smiled,
how their hands were never empty,
how the world seemed to fold itself around them like a favor.
I tried to clap for them.
But my hands felt heavy.
I looked at their light and
my shadow grew longer.
She lit up rooms
without even trying.
And when I tried—
the room only dimmed.
But something had began to rot inside me
It never took the eyes off her.
I never wanted her to see,
how many admired her.
Sometimes, I wanted to borrow a smile from them. Other times I wanted to kick the air where they danced, to make them stumble so I could breathe.
Better in everything that she is.
How easily everyone loved her.
I hated her for it.
I don't know if it was jealousy,
or grief.
Or I just knew I could never be her,
Not even in my daydreams.
Maybe I hated more people,
Than just her.
Or maybe...
Maybe I wanted her
to carry a wound,
that matched mine.
Not because I hated her—
but because if she never saw it,
the gap between us wouldn't feel so wide.
Maybe so I could breathe
a little easier in my own skin.
Maybe I wanted to befriend her.
Whatever it is now,
I liked her at first.