jealousy is a bitch

Depending on who you ask, jealousy and envy are either exact synonyms, totally different words, or near-synonyms with some degree of semantic overlap and some differences. It is difficult to make the case, based on the evidence of usage that we have, for either of the first two possibilities. 

Both jealousy and envy are often used to indicate that a person is covetous of something that someone else has, but jealousy carries the particular sense of zealous vigilance and tends to be applied more exclusively to feelings of protectiveness regarding one’s own advantages or attachments. 

At the funeral of a controversial contrary cousin, I sat surrounded by her life stories. Regaled by relatable reminisces from our relatives. What was recalled, repeated or remembered according to whoever was telling it. 

I quickly realized that once she was out of sight all the zealous vigilance I harbored disappeared with the last whiffs of her cloying scent. In the fifteen years since, she remained unforgiven but not much thought about - unless a specific irritant rubbed awake her vanishing presence. 

Relationship is a word that has never been equal to the mysterious alchemical joining or the physical intimacy we try so hard to make it represent. Relationship is the guardian figure standing by the doorway of the temple of what we actually want. 

The word relationship is a word we often wield unconsciously as a weapon, keeping at bay what we most long to attract. Relationship is a word we use a great deal when we have actually given up on what it represents. ~ David Whyte

We were born into a good looking family, in a country where paler skin and a high bridged nose defined beauty standards. We were sent to all girls' schools run by strict and demanding nuns. Where our grades and performance mattered too much to our even stricter, more demanding parents. 

Early on in our formative years we were closer and shared secrets we arduously kept from the adults around us. She was always the more accomplished liar and sneak, getting away with a lot more than the rest of us ever dared. 

Then she stepped into a glamorous world - blinded by the glitz and glitter of bright lights and pretty trinkets. Jet setting around the globe, wined and dined in the best places, surrounded by the rich and famous. Too young and inexperienced, vulnerable and vapid - she got caught up in her own spin. 

She married a great catch - gorgeous, moneyed, well educated. Even if they lived off his parents' wealth and name - she enjoyed the cushy perks and his possessive attention. Until the cake they baked started to crumble. 

She got cancer, he disappeared to join another family exactly like theirs used to be. Even as her rage led to her recovery with a vengeance - she turned vile and vindictive. Viciously zealous in her newfound vigilance, forever bitching about what the chemo had done to her perky breasts. 

It turns out you truly can die of a broken heart. Hers had turned to stone, giving her a minor heart incident. From which she recovered physically but forever lived in fatal fear of dying alone. 

She stopped eating and lost the fifty pounds she never could in healthier years. She turned reclusive, not venturing out, stopped seeing friends. Quit talking or engaging, so afraid something might set her heart off again. 

Her life shrunk as she did, into the shadows and dungeon of her escalating fears and devastating trauma. 

Was it wish fulfillment? Dreadfully afraid of death, she stopped living. Too bad. So sad. 

I can only hope she's partying now among those she loved the most. Free and fearless.