Sometimes, like a child, I clamor for attention in a way annoying, but not in the cute kiddy kind of way. I scream out "watch me! watch me!" and when no one does, I feel let down, unwanted, annoyed, as if I've wasted some time of my life that I will never get back, some energy that could have been spent on something better. And I feel like an idiot for having done something so childish for the sake of mere attention. The problem is, this frustration that I feel is understandable when it comes from a child, but as an adult, it is seen as jealousy by those that witness it. Jealousy -- such an ugly thing. But jealousy is something different entirely than what I go through, I think. Jealousy is an anger directed towards someone else -- a yearning to be in someone else's shoes in a given situation, a fearfulness of someone else stealing your glory, a sense of resentfulness -- but the frustration that I feel is towards me. It is feeling of inferiority, a gnawing sense of idiocy, a massive of case of "D'oh!". I hit myself on the forehead and wish that I could turn back time and not be such a damn fool the next go around. It isn't a sense of blaming someone else for my position, but rather a blaming of myself for my own position, an entirely different issue, quite opposite in the details, but rather the same in appearance -- maybe.

The thing is, I have been wondering lately if I am a jealous man, and it comes down to the fact that I don't really think I am. I have always thought of myself as being relatively immune to jealousy. I mean, I do not wish to be in anyone else's shoes, I do not want to be anyone but me, I do not want anyone else's experiences. I am, however, very lonely in this world (existentially) and I get really down when I try to speak and no one is listening -- especially considering that there are few times when I can summon the bravery to get up and speak my piece. It's not their not listening that bothers me, it's the question of why it is that what I have to say is so damn uninteresting, a why it is that no one is there, a nagging that keeps me up at night and doesn't go away the next day. I blame myself, and I wish I knew what it was about me that it was so that I could fix it or learn to cope with it if it's not something fixable.