27 April 2024

On Jealousy

Her toes, wet, a significant splash of salty sea spits itself over her shins, a High Tide. The splash presses her into the future; she sees herself. Aglow. Awash. She's everything she's ever wanted to be. She's there

But it's not her. It's some other person who resembles her greatly.

Heat. Flushed. She fills with jealous rage at what is not, at what she is not. The overlap. The person she is not but wants to be sees her, looks over and smiles, "Oh to be in the same place at-not the same time." The person she is not but wants to be sighs a beautiful sigh of contentment. 

Her face, wet, the significant splash of salty sea slinks itself off her scalp, present. The splash recedes, a Low Tide. As she scrambles slowly down the shore to reach the significant splash of salty sea, she slides a hand into the water as the splash splashes her. The past. She sees herself, again, aglow, awash. She is everything she wishes she still was.

But it's not her. It's some other person who resembles her greatly.

Cool. Calmed. She fills with jealous sentiment at what no longer is, at what she was. The undertow. The person she was but no longer is looks at her and smiles, "Oh, to have been, to have been." The person she was but no longer is sighs an ugly sigh of smugness. 

She washes ashore

The squirrel, as it simmers, it speaks, "Took you long enough," and then he hits his joint hard. 

She rolls over and motions for the squirrel to come closer. Annoyed, the squirrel sits back and smirks, "As if," as he takes another puff. She slithers over to the squirrel's stone and props herself up. The squirrel, annoyed, holds the joint out to her, and she pulls long and hard. "I need a Frankie," she states as she sighs the smoke from her lungs. "There aren't any more, and if there were, I sure as fuck wouldn't let you smoke the whole thing by yourself," the squirrel eyerolls. 

"Whatever," she spits with another big inhale and slow, smooth exhale. 

The squirrel speaks, "Apparently;" she interrupts, annoyed, "What?" "We're early," the squirrel explains as a few "Fucks," exit her mouth in rapid succession. "Fuck." 

They each take another pull.

"How do you know this?" she asks. "That goddamn dragonfly basically confirmed it without me even asking. That asshole," squirrel responds. "Well, whatever," she scoffs. "Whatever?" squirrel challenges. "Yea. What. Ev. Er," she smacks along with her fingers gesturing a "W" and an "E." "Wow," squirrel yawns, "we really are early; you're still a fucking teenager." "Fuck you," she blows the squirrel kisses. Squirrel catches the kisses, because he must, but he does not want to accept them. "You have to," she explains. "Whatever," squirrel mimics.