Every woman feels a little envy at some point in her life.
I wouldn’t even say that envy is even the right term…It’s this mixture of jealousy, rage, sadness, the “I don’t even know what the hell to do with this” feeling and envy that all simmer away in a pot together, until stirred. Then, it becomes highly combustible.
This is my own personal recipe for the creation of the green-eyed monster within.
Mine got stirred up just now. “The one that got away” has a new potential love interest.
Yes, I’ve stalked her online (in a non-threatening way). Yes, I’m picking her apart and finding reasons why she’s no good for him. Yes, I’m an asshole.
The part of me that’s his friend is thrilled that he might find someone who can make him happy, because God knows he deserves it. That part of me can talk to him about how he’s feeling, and where he sees things going. This part can offer advice and be a good and supportive friend.
The part of me that still loves him after all this time is terrified. Pissed off. Worried. Saddened. Ready to cut a bitch. This part of me is feeling horribly inadequate; is torturing herself over every little flaw, trying to determine if I measure up to this new girl in his life.
There’s yet another part of me that is saying to myself: what the hell is wrong with you?
1. You’re in a relationship.
2. You’re not even in the same state as him- this couldn’t work unless you sacrifice everything you have here to move.
3. You told him how you feel and he either brushed it off, or didn’t get it; and
4. You had your chance.
This part of me has a point. Much as I hate to admit it.
She-Wolf x
The Secret Diary of a She-Wolf 