Jealous of God

The tears fell without me knowing. I was wearing makeup, so I couldn’t swipe them away. As delicately as I could, I wiped away one tear and then the other. I reached into my bag for a tissue and dabbed away whatever was left. None of this was as discrete as I would have preferred, but the train was pretty empty and the three people sitting across from me didn’t seem to notice. One was sleeping.

I was on my way home and thinking. I forget what about, but I suddenly felt very alone and I was. My closest biological relative is my father. He is not, and has never been, a person I can talk to about anything. My brother is a child. My younger sister is terrible at conversations and my older sister is too far away. There was no one else physically near me. I then thought of the only friend I had made and kept in, throughout and after high school. She was still in Jamaica. It was when I thought of her that my tears stopped restraining themselves. At that moment I really wished that I could talk with her, in her room, on her bed, at the opposite end of the hall from her mother’s bedroom, in her house, up and across the street from mine. But then I remembered that she was now a Christian and I thought of how I would hate to hear her mention anything about god and his hand in anything going on. And then I felt worse. There was definitely no one I could talk to.

* * *

I’ve just finished a bowl of cereal and was simultaneously reading a section in an article on how a lack of social support in addition to constant stress negatively impacts a person’s mental health. I thought of my suspected depression again and how it might be a good thing to have it checked out. But then I thought that I didn’t want to know, because if I really did have it I would use it an excuse to do all the things I barely keep myself from doing now – like staying in bed, all the time.

I’ve been enveloped in a low mood that started off as exhaustion after making a few calls for work. I honestly felt physically drained – from making phone calls and talking to people. And then suddenly I couldn’t do anything productive. I couldn’t read my article or clean my apartment.

I opened the karaoke app on my phone and tried singing a few songs. To my knowledge I don’t have a cold of any sort, but my throat was not clear and I sounded awful and this plummeted me further down. Several times, I tried to get myself to do something else. I stayed on my phone. Even if I did change my activity, I didn’t do the things I needed to. I finally got annoyed with my singing and swept the kitchen, my bedroom, the hallway and bathroom. I wondered why I hadn’t done it hours earlier. What had kept me from simply getting up and doing it? I felt bad for only doing it then, for wasting all the time before on an activity I was engaging in to make myself feel better, but that had only made me feel worse.

While eating my cereal earlier and reading the article, I thought of the man I met recently. I thought of how my last boyfriend was my confidante and how having boyfriends be confidantes suck because when you separate, you’re left with none, which is why friendships are necessary. I thought about my friend that I’m meeting up with tomorrow. I had thought about her when I was sweeping. I thought of perhaps confiding in her about how I’ve been feeling lately, but then shook my head mentally. I rarely see or speak to her. She’s incredibly busy.

I thought of that day on the train and processed my thoughts about my high school friend. I imagined talking to her and thought she might immediately turn to god. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that in my mind she turned to god. I wanted her to listen to me and empathise with me and leave god out of it. I realised I was slightly jealous. I wanted my friend to myself. I didn’t want to share her with god.

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