feminism, writing

That Green Gentleman

I’ve had something on my mind recently, a weight I just can’t shake, like a snake that’s sunk its fangs into my spine.

Envy. Jealousy. Subtly different words that apply to every person in the world. I fall foul of them more than I should, to the extent where it just makes me look like an arsehole.

I’m not a great or even a good person. I’m selfish and egotistical, I envy others for things I could do myself if I just got up off my lazy arse and did something for once. I look at pictures of people I want to emulate and I feel myself despising them, just because they have more than me, just because they are better than me.

They’re better than me because they can face the morning without wanting to cry, and because they were confident and proactive and went for things without pausing to consider the jump. They probably felt like me at some point, too. But they got past that. And I don’t even know how to get past it. Which makes them better. Better than me.

There’s a girl that went to my sixth form, our book club is going to read her first novel next month. She’s tall. She’s pretty. She’s a model. She runs a blog, one much more successful than this tiny reading nook that I call home. She published a book. She got published in Vogue at sixteen. 

I’m sixteen, in this moment, right now. So what am I doing with my life?

I saw one of her first articles – on perfume being a rite of passage for young girls. I got my first perfume at twelve, wore it twice, then never looked at it again. Here’s another; she had a condition that formed her spine to grow wonky. That actually sounds horrific, and it’s something I’m very glad I don’t have.

But it makes her interesting. I am not interesting. She is interesting. 

Maybe I’m being melodramatic, or melancholic, or just plain spoilt. But sometimes, I don’t feel good enough, and I’m jealous of other people. I want what they have. I want that confidence, that privilege to have the life I’ve so desperately craved since I was a child, to see a book up on my shelf and know that yes, I wrote that. That is mine, and mine alone. It’s not anyone else’s.

Sometimes, I’m not good enough. I know, when I don’t feel ready to turn off the light and roll over to sleep, I’ll look back on this post and see it in my daydream eyes, laugh at the way I compare myself to other people and convince myself that I’m a feminist. I don’t do second best, let alone third best. That I need to raise women up, rather than put myself down beside them.

But right now, I’m not good enough. And we all feel that way, sometimes.

4 thoughts on “That Green Gentleman”

  1. Hey! I know this comment is about a year late . . . But I really have to say I know that feeling. You see, there’s this one person in my life who I always wanted to be . . . This guy’s a pretty much all rounder. Hell, he’s good at a dozen of things OUT of academics too. All the teachers and classmates love him.
    When I started blogging, I felt like at least I was doing SOMETHING better than he was. But no, he couldn’t leave that part too.
    The really funny thing is that we’re now kinda best friends. Because of our shared love for books. I still get these bouts of envy, but it’s . . . okay.
    The point of this very long comment? There’s always that person who you think is better than you, and you just feel that sheer green envy. But you gotta remember that there’s also that one thing you’re unique at.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Can I employ you to coach me through all my small mental breakdowns? But seriously, thank you so much for that comment.I sat at my laptop for a good couple of minutes trying to think up a half-decent response.
      I’m someone that literally gets jealous of everyone, for some reason or another. More friends, higher grades, less acne… You name it. I think that’s mainly because I haven’t actually found that one thing I’m unique at yet. Although I’m hopeful I will find it sometime.
      Thank you, though. A lot.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Again, sorry for the late comment (I ace late replies). Just wanted to say this – your writing style IS unique. I dunno about that girl you talked about in this post and her blog, but your writing style is just . . . honest. Comes from the heart. And I’d like seeing that someday in a novel : D
        Also, you’re my favourite blogger around!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Nahhhhh it’s all okay – late replies are definitely my thing. Thank you, though, I guess I never really see my own writing in that way, especially as I spend most of my time writing essays, nowadays! The girl is called Rosalind Jana, if you are interested in looking into her a little more. I’m honestly sure she’s a lovely person, to be fair. And, just, thank you. SO much. That means a lot to hear you say that 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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