Recollections of a Light

This small entry is hastily scratched below the one above it, the penmanship is much shakier than usual, as if the writer was using a great deal of control and force over the quill. A few wet dots splatter here and there on the page, wrinkling the paper slightly while leaving watermarks.

I don’t know how to think, speak, or feel anymore. I should be happy for them, right? I should be happy that they both found what they’ve wanted this whole time. They’re my friends, aren’t they? I should be happy for them.

I should be happy for them.

But I’m not.

Every time I look at either of them, my stomach churns and I feel sick and nauseated. I’m not happy for them like I’m supposed to be. I’m angry and hurt. I feel like screaming, crying, exploding. I feel like I’m barely holding myself back from doing something I know I’ll regret. I feel betrayed. I hate feeling this way.

I don’t know who I can talk to… and whether or not I’ll be able to talk about it at all. I’m sick of being the mute victim.

I wish everything just went back to the way they were originally.