Green-eyed
I am not jealous. I do not fear a woman's finding someone new, or cheating on me, or anything. I realise desire is not something that can be prescribed, circumscribed or controlled. I know I can be what is needed and not be at the same time, and it doesn't bother me. That my lover should go unfulfilled bothers me more, that they should make themselves unhappy because of an obligation to me saddens me, because I am not trying to make them beholden. I know that my not feeling jealous in this way can make people unhappy because they feel it is part of love that I ought to but I cannot love like that. Maybe it is because I fear the demon in me that would possess you utterly that I fear possessing you at all.But jealous also has a sense of envious, and besides vanity, envy is my worst fault (lack of time precludes a listing of the others but most of the things that are said about me are true and some pretty nasty things are said about me; actually, let's just say it's among my worst faults). And I am envious. When I think about S, I am jealous. I am jealous of every man who has had sex with her, every boy who kissed her when she was at school, jealous of her time, her energy, her love, when any of it is wasted by being spent anywhere but on me. I have no right to it but still I feel it. I am jealous of the people that please her, who see her smile, of those who make her laugh and those whom she talks to, thinks of, gives to and cares for. And of course, a prisoner of the hours, the miles between us, the impossibility of ever possessing her at all, I am doubly jealous of those who talk to, think of, give to and care for her.
posted by Dr Zen @ 2:56 pm
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