On Jealousy.

A snippet written in Chemistry class yesterday:

On Jealousy.


She touches your shoulder like a child cops a feel from a loosely barricaded statue in a museum. Palm brushing carefully against the thin fabric of your shirt, she laughs and tries to say something clever, hoping no one has noticed the trembling hand she puts back in her pocket.

Let me explain:

A friend of ours (female, yes) asked Keav to help her out with her problems (psychological/emotional, yes) and because we share the same "fix you" complex, he told me that he was thinking about it but also, he wanted to know whether or not it would upset me. And I told him that it made me uncomfortable because in my experience, people who want help always end up falling for the person who is helping them. And it is always difficult for the person helping to say no.

Furthermore, I know how it feels to be like that--acting like you want help and playing the "beautiful, damaged flower" when really what you want is love. And so yeah, I told him that I'm far too old to pretend like I don't know where these things go. And there might not be any reason now but I don't want to take that chance so if he is going to do it, he'll be doing it knowing that I feel terrible about it.

He asked me to explain why I didn't like the aforementioned lady. And I said that I like her, but I don't trust her. And those are two entirely different things. I like Coke Light, but do I really trust it? In my gut, do I feel that Coke Light is good for me and won't in fact give me cancer later on in life? Hell no. And I likened the whole gut feeling thing to those creepy china dolls with big, painted-on porcelain faces. It's sitting there and it's quite pretty but for some reason, it freaks you out. The thing is you know it won't move, you know it won't kill you or anything because it's inanimate; there is nothing to worry about. But still, you know, if it does move you'll feel like an idiot for sleeping next to it and not putting it behind a glass case.

I said that I never want to play the role of the "jealous girlfriend" (because really, it's unflattering and I'm not the type to get upset for no reason) so I wasn't going to stop him. But if our roles were reversed and a guy who I found mildly attractive asked me to come over and help him solve his psychological and emotional problems--which by the way, no one can really do for you; not to be crass or anything but really, what type of help do you really need from someone you're attracted to? yeah, Freud would have a lot to say about that--I would say no in a heartbeat because while it might not happen, the probable risks are too big: I would risk disturbing that person further if he ended up liking me and I didn't feel the same, I would risk hurting K if I did feel the same and I would risk hurting myself; and regardless of whether or not that happens, fact of the matter is I'm not willing to risk it ever happening. I wouldn't know what to do if I lost you, I told him. And I don't ever want to find out. Also, given my personality--I'm not the type of person who can get over infidelity so if something were to happen to you guys, I'm going to be blunt and say that I will not be able to forgive you. And I will not be able to make everything okay again.

And then we both cried.

K said he wouldn't do it because just the thought of losing me was making him want to throw up. And I was relieved--but also, I felt guilt in that relief. I'm not sure if it's right for me to ask these things or to not trust her but I'm sure that I'd rather be wrong about that than right about my gut feeling and not have done anything about it.

About fifteen minutes of sobbing on both our ends, K said, "Wina?"

"Yeah?"

"Sing me one of your retarded songs."

"Everybody is a piece of bread, crusty on the outside, squishy on the inside. Break it open, eat it eat it yummy yummy yummy!"

"I love you, you know. And I couldn't stand losing you, I really couldn't stand it."

"I know. I love you too. By the way, I wrote a song for you."

"Sing it."

"Keavin wants to dance a jig. Wina is a secret pig."

"NUUUUUU. I KILL YOU. WHY WHY WHY WHY WHYYYYYYY!"

"I thought you like my songs?"

"I thought you were going to sing me a serious song. I was in the mood to be cheesy."

"But--"

"Also, you're not fat, retard."

:)) He has a way with compliments, that one.