I wanted to call him today but didn't, ashamed of my egotistical reasons. He deserves better than to hear me rant about this misguided jealousy. I am happy for S, but that's only a part of it. The feeling of running into them earlier today downtown, him looking good in a black leather jacket, her looking happily in love. I went home, began dialing his number but stopped myself, mother's words echoing in my mind:
I don't know where we are anymore and I'm starting to lose track of time. It's getting darker and colder, and it's not just the seasons changing. We're mostly reading and sleeping, when I'm not thinking about how I really feel for him. He's so pretty but I'm afraid that my love is selfish, that I only love him because it makes me feel good about myself.
Yesterday a tall rugged man approached us as we sat in the restaurant. He didn't know any English but we soon understood that he wanted to buy our jeans. And suddenly I was brought back to reality, realizing how incredibly privileged I am. My stupid problems seem so trivial compared to the poverty we're witnessing all around us. But then again, I guess things are never that easy.