Jealousy

He clambered his way up the stairs. It seemed almost impossible to do his Biology assignment (which was due the next day) let alone turn on the aircon. He lay sprawled on his bed with the picture still grasped in his hand. He glanced at it and sighed. All those moments, those times where he could have, he should have, done something. But he didn't. He simply didn't know what to do. He could have told her how he felt, He could have told her something more reassuring, something to comfort her. But what did he do? He told her the hurtful truth of everything. How everything was just an illusion given to us, fed to us through the media. "He isn't as tall as he looks" He's actually a really weird guy" "He can't actually sing"

But of course, he couldn't have known or realised why he had said these things but now he knew. The jealousy of listening to her go on endlessly about these "amazing" people, which they were, it just made him feel tiny. It made him feel like a speck in her eyes. What else could he do? He was jealous. He should just have agreed with her, started talking about them with her.

Less than a minute passed as these thoughts flew by in his over-loaded head. His parents told him he thought too much but he didn't care. He washed it all away with a glide of a knife accompanied with the nostalgic music he listened to. After all, it was almost the end of the school year. He had time. Time to think about things, look over things he overlooked. He had always thought about "making a fresh start".

I walked a mile with Pleasure;

She chatted all the way;

but she left me none the wiser 

for all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow; 

And ne'er a word said she; 

But, Oh! The things I learned from her, 

When Sorrow walked with me