Þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg (000_hester_000) wrote,
Þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg

Dear ɱ.,

You probably don't know this since we aren't "close" per se, but I admire the hell out of you. I admire your intelligence, your dedication, and the motivation you have to succeed-- it seems like you're always doing something creative, never wasting any time. And to be doing all of this at such a young age! I don't think you know how special you are; I only wish that I could have been like you when I was in high school instead of wasting every day doing nothing. I wish I could be like you now.

But therein lies the problem. I am jealous of you, so insanely jealous that thinking of you makes me want to cry. I have always felt old; it's one of my longstanding demons, but I think that I gained a new understanding of the word when I met you because you make me feel ancient indeed. How can I possibly be so old? I'm only nineteen! Were I a good person, I suppose I would be happy for you. But I'm not, and I can't; all I feel is bitterness that there is no way for me to turn back time, no way to take your place. I have become a real life fairytale evil stepmother; I would gladly see you ruined so that I could remain the youngest and fairest of them all. I cannot bear the thought that you have already surpassed me.

All my love and envy,

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