A Letter to Envy

You're not useless. You're not weak. You're not pathetic.
I have to keep telling myself this.
It's so hard to believe, because you always tell me the opposite.
You tell me how I'm bad and awful. I hate it. I've always hated it.
I can't stand it anymore. I can't stand you anymore.
People are starting to be nice to me lately.
They tell me nice things and call me nice names, like a friend, or that I am attractive.
It's nice to hear. It makes me feel wanted.
I'm not used to it. I don't know what to say when it happens.
What would they want me to say?
They are nice. They make me feel wanted.
I don't remember the last time I felt that way. Never, I think.
It's fun.
One of them is a thief.
You were too in your other body, right?
That's why you let me talk with him for so long, right?
He didn't judge me. He accepted me instantly.
His friends, they thought it was strange. He was used to judgement too. He was always judged by them.
But we had each other. We would talk to each other. We would laugh with each other.
It was the first time I laughed, and he had this look of shock when I did it.
It was when I learned that I wasn't as hated as you're always saying.
Around that time, I met someone else.
An angel.
He was beautiful and had a smile only the sun could out-shine.
I never felt my heart beat so fast than when he talked to me.
I wonder if it was love. Can that be possible for someone like me?
I always hear about how wonderful love is. Would it help even me?
Would it help you?
Is that why you want to keep me away from him?
When I found you, that was because of your love, wasn't it?
Your love caused that to happen.
It was an ugly sight.
I couldn't face you for the longest time.
I was scared.
I stayed hidden.
Even when you called out to me.
And begged for help.
I wonder who you love. What are they like to be able to take everything from you like that?
I wonder what else they can take.
All of the things the world could offer?
What kind of life is theirs?
That's why you're so harsh, isn't it.
Because the pain is still there.
Only pain.
Hurting others is a way to stop feeling it.
That's why you treat me that way.
It has to stop.
I have friends now.
They'll always remind me that I'm wanted.
That I'm loved.
It's all I ever wanted. That's why I first joined you.
But now I have them. And they like me.
Maybe they'll like you, too.

You're not useless. You're not weak. You're not pathetic.

Always.