published in 2014 on my tumblr
I learned early on what the prick of envy feels like. It feels like a rose thorn. It was at the end of first grade, I was merely seven and driven by that insane need to perform and outperform and not disappoint, so I had come out top of the class. And during the year end ceremony, the teacher had me stand in the front row because of that, which promptly made the girl behind me prick me with the thorn of a rose in her bouquet.
So another layer was added to my fear of failure to drive me on. Somehow, this idea took roots, that if I am good enough, I can somehow overcome the sting of other people’s envy. I could maybe become so good, that it wouldn’t hurt, that I could afford not to care. It was a bitter (and much later) lesson that I could never be so good that it wouldn’t matter. The stress might be on *I* or on *so*, it doesn’t really change the situation.
Even while I tell myself that it doesn’t matter, that they don’t matter, the pain caused by other people’s words is still present. Maybe it’s a good thing and helps temper my arrogance. Perhaps it is a reminder to treat others kindly, regardless of my opinion of them or theirs of me, so as not to lose sight of the kind of person I want to be. Because I am a firm believer that the way we treat other people defines who we are and I would not want to be someone who is unkind.
Yet, even while knowing that, I do not give up striving to excel and trying to use that excellence as an armor against… well, everyone. I wish I could let go of it, because it’s done me infinitely more harm than good. I wish I could find someone I wouldn’t constantly measure up against in my mind; with whom I wouldn’t feel the constant need to compete; with whom failing might finally be an option instead of a perceived disaster; with whom there is no sting of envy; with whom no armor of excellency and no proving myself over again would be necessary.
