Where the Green Embers Never Die (After the Sun) Part II

Even now, as I sit with my thoughts, I know they'll never truly die. They never truly sleep. They only dim, waiting for something or someone- anything- to remind me why they burn, why they're always truly there.

I see someone smile, and yet again, they glow. Brighter each time, hardly ever dimming anymore.

I hear someone's success in life, and they begin to crackle.

I watch someone receive the very things I spend my nights wishing for, and suddenly, my chest feels too small to contain the fire, as if it'll burst open at any second.

I don't want to resent them. I really don't. I want to be happy. I want to look at someone else's happiness without feeling as though something is being taken away from me. But the green embers don't understand that. They know nothing of fairness, patience, or gratitude. They only know what I lack.

And so, I stay sitting here, watching them spread.

Some crawl into the corners of my thoughts, whispering that I am not enough, that I never will be. Others cling to my ribs,  reminding me of every comparison I make, every silent question I ask, every time I wonder of what I desire.

I try to cup my hand around them, as though I can contain the glow. But the light slips between my fingers.

Perhaps the worst part is that I don't even know what I want anymore. Is it what they have? Is it the way they seem effortlessly happy? Is it the feeling of being chosen, noticed, or admired?

Or am I simply desperate to feel that I am not falling behind?

I look down at my chest. The embers shimmer, beautiful in the most gut-wrenching way. They remind me that envy is not always a raging fire. Sometimes, it is a quiet green glow that follows me everywhere, even into moments that should make me happy.

And tonight, I don't know how to extinguish it.

So I let them burn.

Not because I want it to consume me, but rather because pretending it isn't there only makes it brighter, stronger.

For now, I am still learning to live with the green inside me.