Keep you second guessing
like, oh my god
who is she?
i get drunk
on jealousy
but you'll come back
each time you leave....


Sometimes I like to play with jealousy....

I mean, it's not something I feel that often, but when I do it can be very strong. It can get you to do outlandish things. Like the one time my boyfriend was having a girl over and I hid in the bathtub.

But jealousy isn't one emotion, it's kind of an umbrella term......

So what's under my umbrella?

Fear of rejection. Fear that she will be better than me. Fear of abandonment.

Fear that she can give you something I can't. She's gonna be younger, prettier, more interesting.

Fear that she will hurt you (yes, you!)

She's gonna snare you in her web of lies.

Why is it always a she? It could easily have been a "he", most of my exes are bi/pan and my current partners are too. Is this some sort of internalized misogyny? Am I competitive with women because I was raised to value looks above any other personal quality I might have? Do I really think my partners are that shallow?

But honestly, most of the time I don't feel jealousy, not like my fiance. Most of my displays are just that- displays. They're like costumes that I put on. I know when my sister gets jealous, she turns red and hot, her jealousy can consume....

I just want to feel loved. Safe. Stable.

If I have all those things, there's no need for me to feel jealousy.
My life is like a friggin movie sometimes.

there's cast, camera...lights, action...

I was holding Michael, shivering on the bed, looking at us as the director or the cameraman, we were shivering together, two men holding each-other.

or maybe a man and a woman holding each other

maybe two women, fuck i hate this. Why does it matter? Am I a total jack-ass for assuming Michael's gender?

In that moment, in my mind, we were two men holding eachother, but that could've just been because I was a man at the time, mostly.

Michael was crying, and I felt like she hated me for being there, for holding her, for rocking her, for saying "shh" and "it'll be ok" and whatever other bullshit I was saying at the time.

I didn't know what to say.

Or what to do.

My options felt like they were all wands on a shelf at Ollivanders, I could call out to them and one of them would fly to me- but would it be the right wand for the wizard?

The bed had a whirlpool in its center, sucking us down.

I didn't know if what I was doing was the right thing, but I had to do something right? I couldn't just let Michael dissolve into sobs, making up excuses, saying she was sorry over and over, making promises she couldn't keep, threatening to leave the bedroom, threatening everything.

In the moments that were silent, I wasn't so afraid. I tried to think of what song would be playing during this scene. I couldn't think of it at the time. Later I decided it was.....
No Name # 2 - Elliott Smith-


Concrete hands picked up the telephone ring
"Do you know who you're talking to?"
"No, and I don't care who"

She whispered quiet terror news
He didn't give a hoot
Said "do what you have to do"

All she had to do was speak
Mouthpiece to cheek
"Please say no more"
"I'm lying here on the ground

A strip of wet concrete"
Her name was just a broken sound
A stutter step you hear when you're falling down

Killing time won't stop this crime
Killing time won't stop this crime
Killing time won't stop this crime

You better start watching what message that you send now
No more situations I only go in to be kicked out
He got knocked down leaving like he ran into a clothesline
And remembered a couple of words that hid a crime

"You're just fine
You'll be just fine
But I'm on the other line"

Killing time won't stop this crime
Killing time won't stop this crime
Killing time won't stop this crime


I guess I can relate, though I have a name. I don't remember who gave it to me.

My sister called me Jen (I spell it Gen now...seems more edgy) she told people I was her imaginary friend.

I don't fucking care, She can say whatever she wants, I'm still all she's got. Her girlfriend was jealous of me- HA. Maybe she was a little afraid of me too- HAHA. When she goes out with my sister, I imagine stomping her face in with my platforms. I hate her, my sister's stupid for liking her. She wears the most horrible clothes...

That was so long ago, but it feels like yesterday. Anyways, that's the story of my name.

I imagine my boyfriend saying it, but he never says it.

Now this is what it's like when worlds collide
Now this is what it's like....

Starfuckers incorporated


Kyle said these were our songs. I felt proud that we had a song, "our song". It had a nice ring to it.

Later I combed through them, trying to analyze what about these songs reminded him of me. Neither of them were romantic?

They are kind of badass songs. I feel like I'm driving fast in a car when I hear them. I'm wearing like this leather jacket. Kyle must be like waaay smarter about these things than I am.

Still, I have this feeling in my stomach, like I'm falling. He says he loves me, but that's not good enough, I can't hold onto that. These songs aren't enough to work with, I can't crack their code.

I'll ask him.

I ask him, and ask him, and ask him. His face looks like it's bruised every time, but he doesn't say anything.

In the meantime, I have to fuck him. Like, every second. Everytime he plays videogames or hangs out with his mom or his friends, I feel like my head is going to explode. There's no other way.

"Come *on* Kyle...." I say in that way, grabbing his arm. It makes me feel good that he can't resist me. His mom cuts me a look but I don't know what it means.

We go to his room. The air looks green because that's the color I associate with Kyle, it's kind of a yellowy-neon green, static. I push him on the bed, he falls over like a light, stiff board. Pulls me on top then tumbles me over to the bottom, like usual. He turns on the stereo with one finger, a Green Day album. I'm close to memorizing all the songs. I look at the ceiling the whole time. I don't feel anything going on down there but a sick wet feeling. I don't even know if he's using a condom. I'm on birth control.

It's over, he's back to video games. I confront him again

"Why do you love me?" I'm nagging him, not backing down this time. I make him look at me.

"You were my first....You're a goddess. I worship you, ok?"

He bursts into tears.

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