Yes, I am jealous.
I am jealous of others,
of their happiness,
their beauty,
their perfections,
their freedom.
I want what they have.
To feel good,
to feel happy,
to feel loved.
Yes, I have family.
Yes, they love me.
But I want what they have.
I want someone to love me,
to hold me,
to kiss me.
To make me feel special.
But all I get is jokes.
The love they give me is rotten,
disgusting,
wrong.
I have to push them away.
Most people have perfect love,
they feel happy,
they feel special.
I don’t,
I don’t think I ever will feel like that.
So, yes.
I am jealous.