The 'we' to which I refer is really ME. Tonight, moreso than most nights in recent memory, I am sore vexed (to continue with the Shakespearean theme). I am caught betwixt jealousy and a loathing of that emotion... between love and hatred... between pride and shame.
I have always thought of jealousy as the refuge of small minds - yet, tonight I find myself so eaten alive by that emotion that I cannot contain it. And while the object of my affection remains so, his cohort has become the object of my disdain... not because of any great transgression - but merely because she is with him and I am not. This fact brings tears to my eyes -- both at the injustice of being so far away and helpless to change my circumstance and at the shame of allowing myself this indulgence.
Still, I have to wonder, was there no consideration for how one's lover might feel? Or have years of being alone dulled that sense?
I'm certain that with tomorrow's sunrise I will feel quite the fool for having entertained these thoughts... but somehow the writing of them has provided a modicum of relief.
I bid you good morrow.
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