One Hundred Letters for James

041

041:

Jealousy

(Farah's parents came to the dorm today and took all of her stuff. When I opened the door I could tell her mom was trying not to cry. She let her husband do the moving while I comforted her and told her lies about what a great person Farah is.)

When we were fifteen, you died your hair black. While it wasn't that drastic of a change, I noticed, of course, and I was pretty mad. Why would you do that? I loved your hair the way it was before, the nice brown color that reminded me of chocolate.

But the girls liked it. A lot of them did, actually. And god, did I hate it. No one deserved you like I did.

I'd always been there for you. I'd stood by your side through turmoils, but you honestly didn't really care about that.

But that hair, I couldn't stand it. It grew back brown, of course, but it wasn't the same, not to me.

That wasn't what really made me mad, though. It was the girls. No one would ever understand you like I did.

I was there when your dad left, I was there when all the girls left, and I was there when you didn't want to cry but you still did.

You didn't get it though. You didn't get how it felt for me to wait and wait your life away, watching the clock tick by as you went through girlfriends, never once looking over to me in adoration like you did them.

I couldn't force you to love me, of course, it was just, just so, frustrating, thinking oh this will be the last girl, he'll take a break, but it never happened.

And you ruined any chance with a guy I ever had, deliberately or not.

I don't know why your mom let you dye it. She shook her head at you when you argued with me about it, and I tried so hard to keep my thoughts down, but sometimes it all pushes up at the seams start splitting and bam something's gone wrong.

The jealousy was like a fire that burnt bright inside me, hot and green and waiting to consume, waiting waiting waiting just like I was. I feel it now, as I walk through the cafeteria and see all the laughter and seeing all the love radiating from everyone.

Ryan has friends the he likes better than me, and they have friends who have friends who have friends, and everybody has a somebody but me.

It was never easy for me to make friends; no one liked someone who dragged the mood down like an anchor. I've tried so hard getting better, and tried to meet people, but to no avail. Farah's my only friend and she doesn't even know.

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