Green-Eyed Monster

I am in awe of you as a child.

I am envious of you with past lovers, even though I am your present.

I despise the thought of you not knowing I existed when I was nine, when I was fourteen and being kissed for the first time, and two months before I met you.

I brag about my past in an attempt to appear less inadequate, because yours is so much bigger than mine, and it makes me angry.

Some part of me breaks knowing you were once happy without me, and the fact that I’m a hypocrite does nothing to sooth my heart.

I fucking hate every girl who has ever touched you.

And I’m jealous of every photo I wasn’t around for.