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Jealousy.
#WritcoStoryPrompt121
As I walk through the hallways, passing by everyone, I glance at them. Oh, how I wish I had their life. It's perfect, how could it not be? Others hang on to their every word, following them around like lost puppies. They always have a smile from a sweet joke, or blush from a flirty comment. They're pretty, short yet somehow flows hair that rests so perfectly atop their head. Skin that may have a few bumps and spots but they still make it work.
As I walk through the hallways, no one stops and stares. No one acknowledges or says hello. I wonder if I may be invisible, a glass only served to reflect light onto the beauty that is them. Their clothes always match, I've never seen them have a bad day. They're the sun, and sadly I'm just a comet.
I'm unseen until the moment is too late. It angers me, really. I wish I could be them. They get so many opportunities, choices. They're good at art and math and they can understand science and English. They're bilingual and absolutely perfect. If there was to be a picture in the dictionary for the word 'flawless', their picture would be there. It's impossible to bring them down, and it angers me.
As I walk into the room, it seems to dim. I take my seat and only until they walk in does it light up once again. They shine with brilliance, the radiance of a neutron star. I am nothing but a black dwarf star, burnt out, left to my own.
I sit in my room, darkness engulfing me. I tear down my walls and my posters and my lights and I throw away and crumple up all my art. None of it is good enough. Why can't I be like them?
© AceNeverExistedd.
As I walk through the hallways, passing by everyone, I glance at them. Oh, how I wish I had their life. It's perfect, how could it not be? Others hang on to their every word, following them around like lost puppies. They always have a smile from a sweet joke, or blush from a flirty comment. They're pretty, short yet somehow flows hair that rests so perfectly atop their head. Skin that may have a few bumps and spots but they still make it work.
As I walk through the hallways, no one stops and stares. No one acknowledges or says hello. I wonder if I may be invisible, a glass only served to reflect light onto the beauty that is them. Their clothes always match, I've never seen them have a bad day. They're the sun, and sadly I'm just a comet.
I'm unseen until the moment is too late. It angers me, really. I wish I could be them. They get so many opportunities, choices. They're good at art and math and they can understand science and English. They're bilingual and absolutely perfect. If there was to be a picture in the dictionary for the word 'flawless', their picture would be there. It's impossible to bring them down, and it angers me.
As I walk into the room, it seems to dim. I take my seat and only until they walk in does it light up once again. They shine with brilliance, the radiance of a neutron star. I am nothing but a black dwarf star, burnt out, left to my own.
I sit in my room, darkness engulfing me. I tear down my walls and my posters and my lights and I throw away and crumple up all my art. None of it is good enough. Why can't I be like them?
© AceNeverExistedd.
