Jealousy

ew gross

Sep 4, 2023

Let's talk about some embarrassing emotions, shall we?* Oooh wee one of my most favorite most hated, is jealousy. That deep burning longing wearing a mask of anger and carrying a bag of unfulfilled desires and confused motivations. I don't experience this emotion often, but when I do it's so vividly complex, a pungent stink that you quietly, quietly like, such as the smell of gasoline or your fingers after rubbing your bare booty hole. Usually it's connected to a specific ghost of things desired but not yet achieved. I used to get jealous of my ex, in white box spaces, everyone dressed all cool and talking about objects hanging on the wall, or lying on the floor. Even now it's unclear to me why I experience this emotion in this particular space, but I felt it again, with a new person, in another white box connection of rooms. I stood staring at an object on the wall, coins, metal, a puzzle of a dragon heart thumping and mind racing as if my body was slipping back in time and all the white boxes I had ever stood in and all the men I had ever stood next to stacked up and congealed and I reached for my script Watched myself over time, 1.go into some sort of tantrum asking for attention or 2.feeling very intimidated, almost in love, but embarrassed by it, so I react hostile Wanting But in denial Or not having, at the time insecure of whether I could even make it come to me or whether I'd even want it hand outstretched and teeth snarling. It was all I could do to stand in the spot, quiet and entranced, unavailable to the present moment out of fear and hypnosis. Ah, fear, fangy devil. True, I wanted to avoid it all: the memories, the moment, the script. Ew gross. Alas, I know better (I guess). Opening up the onion, tears falling down my face What's this really about? Sometimes I can't say, But I could probably dance or shake. And try to open myself up to something new.

Thank you for reading Raise Your Hands and Scream. If you care about airing out uncomfortable emotions, share this post.

*I am sitting in the restaurant lobby of a global co-work space and hostel chain, in San Jose, fresh off a plane and waiting for my room. I determinedly scrapped some melted edible off the dark brown wall of a glass container I had mostly forgot in the bottom of my backpack. Since it's all melted together I have no idea how much I have taken, and I haven't had much thc as of late, who knows how it'll hit, but it makes the writing that much more fun and dangerous, like ooh lets talk about some shit you're "not supposed"** to talk about.

**Please note this rule is coming from my inner demons, who mean me well, but really need to get with the time. "Supposed"s are out, truth telling to self-immolation and rebirth is in.