Inferiority complex

I feel small, smaller than ever. 

She strides into the room,

Exuding the confidence that is ever so natural to her.

Her luscious hair falls perfectly on her flawlessly curved shoulders. 

I glance sideways at my unkempt hair and heave a sigh.

Her professionally trimmed brows and her long curled lashes;

They complement her haughty eyes that pierce right through my soul. 

I look to the floor and slowly shift my vision back up again through my slit Asian eyes.

I am greeted by an unusually deep cleavage that runs through her perky bosoms. They are enhanced by the red lacy bra that puts them firmly in place.

Blood rushes to my face as I am suddenly aware of the gap between my breasts and the cups of my bra. 

Her translucent black tank top hugs her body, revealing her neatly toned abs and her tiny huggable waist.

I picture myself in the same tank top and am disgusted by my protruding stomach fats.

Her hips are curved in such a delicate manner, and ticks like a metronome with each step she takes. Her firm butt speaks of her consistent lower body workout routine.

It is a wonder how that beautiful piece of art, handicrafted by God, is supported by two slender long legs that seem like they may break at any instant. 

I slip my hands down to my legs and feel the bulky calf muscles which are undesirable for women. I look down and am taken aback by how my thighs spread out across the chair, hardly leaving any gap. 

I look around,

All eyes are on her.

My heart burns with envy.

Diets, workouts, make-up, clothes.

Options after options race through my mind as I search for one that could make me look more like her.

I feel a tap on my shoulders that awakens me from my reverie. 

"She's something you'll never be," my annoying little brother teases me.

But he is right.

She is something I will never be.

She is gorgeous. She is confident.

I throw aside all the options that I considered. 

It is pointless.

I will never be beautiful.

I feel small, smaller than ever.

Frivolous

It's been awhile since I met Theodore. I miss him, I miss him like the withered grass misses the rain in a dry spell, like the melody misses it's accompaniment in a monophony. He is my sustenance, he is my refuge, he is my joy, he is the love of my life. I miss the tender touch of his lips brushing against mine, and the warmth of his embrace. I miss the fierceness of his mouth pressing against mine, and his forceful hugs that leave me breathless. He fulfills all my needs, my desires and my dreams. He makes me complete, almost complete. 

There's just one thing lacking - excitement. It was there when we first met. I remember the late night calls that lasted till dawn; it was his tender voice that fueled me to stay awake through the night. I remember the songs that I used to sing to him, enunciating each word whole-heartedly albeit the most clichéd of lyrics. I remember the feeling of anticipation, awaiting for his return from work to critique the dinner that I spent hours whipping up for him. But now it's gone. I've been searching high and low, but to no avail. Occasionally, I think I've got it, but no. It disappears as quickly as the sugar dissolves in a newly brewed pot of tea. I see him desperately trying to rekindle the passion of our first love. My heart yearns to reciprocate, my heart burns, but I can't. Somehow, I can't.

It's been months, almost a year, since I felt like that. The longest dry spell I have ever experienced. My head is starting to feel heavy, my heart desolate, my soul withered. 

It is just when I'm starting to concede to my mundane love life that Dom steps in. All of a sudden, I'm rejuvenated. All of a sudden, every fiber of my being feels more alive than ever. He approaches me with a smile as deadly as toxic, but as addictive as heroine. I want more, more, more. He places his hand on the small of my back. I tense. It tickles, it sends shivers down my spine. It's been a very very long time since someone made me feel that way. Someone. And by that, I mean Theodore. For the past few moments, I completely forgot about Theodore. Forgot about the promises we made, the commitment and trust we have built, the things he has done for me, his very existence. 

A pang of guilt strikes my chest. I can feel Dom's breath against my neck. I take a deep breath into his chest. He smells of men cologne and soap. Fresh. I shouldn't be indulging in this intimacy. I know it's going to lead nowhere. I will never trade Theodore for anything or anyone - that, I'm certain. What I'm not certain is what I should do at the very moment. Dom looks at me in the eye, his hazel eyes piercing right through my soul. I shouldn't be flirting with the very thing that could destroy what I have with Theodore. 

Dom strokes the back of my head. I don't know, I don't know. I don't care anymore. I gather the cloth at the bottom of his shirt around my fist and pull him closer, covering up whatever little gap that was left between us. 

Skin against skin, I know I'm making the wrong decision. Nose brushing against nose, I know I should run. Mouth pressing against mouth, I know it's too late. I embrace the intimacy with my entire being. I feel high, higher than ever although I'm sober. I push aside the guilt within me. Regret and remorse can wait for another day. Right now, I shall savour every single moment.

I am frivolous, then I feel guilty.

The last straw

Again.
He did it again.
His little pranks that subtly feed my appetite for hatred.
His innocence that strikes my chest with a pang of guilt.
His presence that overwhelms me with waves of schizophrenia.
I can't decide.
Do I hate him?
Or do I embrace him?

But today,
Today it's different.
Today I have decided.
I have decided that it is enough.
I will make him pay,
Pay a hefty price.

He approaches me.
His mischievous face and jovial self.
My heart softens.
But no.
I will stand my ground.
I must stand my ground.
He plays his usual pranks.
I smile.
It is the widest smile I have ever given.
He crackles,
He thinks it's funny.
He likes the attention.

I play it cool.
I have it all planned.
He embraces his girl the moment he sees her.
She hardly knows me.
But I know her.
I know everything about her.
Her insecurities,
Her fears,
He has told them all.

I walk up to him.
I walk up to them.
I am nonchalant.
"I think you dropped the letter that Catherine wrote you,"
I say.
I pass it to him,
And walk away.

Five, ten, fifteen steps.
I hear her screams.
She breaks down.
She loses herself.
Jealousy overwhelms her.
Her insecurities surface.
He is at a lost.
He explains himself over and over again to no avail.

I should feel guilty,
But I don't.
That can wait.
Right now,
I feel victorious.
A taste of his own medicine,
Finally.