Jealousy Is a Terrible Thing to Carry

the quiet humiliation of still caring

Pinterest

I think rain makes everything harder to hide.

It had been unbearably sunny for days. The sort of heat that leaves everyone irritated and exhausted, and slightly cruel without meaning to be. And then today it finally rained. Properly. The sky softened, the wind changed, and everything suddenly felt slower and easier to breathe in.

Maybe that’s why it all hit harder.

Even before today, something in me had already been unsettled. Lunches had started feeling strange. Too many almost-glances. Too much accidental noticing. The sort of tension you pretend isn’t there because acknowledging it would make everything awkward and painfully real.

And jealousy is a bitch.

I genuinely used to think it belonged to other people. I used to lecture my friends about these things too, telling them to stop overthinking people who clearly confused them. To be mature. Not to let feelings reduce them to insecurity and comparison. As if I were somehow above all of that.

Meanwhile, now I’m out here noticing where & how someone chooses to sit. Who gets the softer smiles? Which laughter sounds different from the others?

It’s humiliating.

Not because of anyone else, but because I don’t recognise myself inside it.

And without realising it, you become observant in the saddest possible way. You start carrying tiny details home with you, like they matter more than they should. You replay moments you pretend meant nothing.

And then today happened.

It started pouring suddenly, and I stepped outside just to look at the rain for a second because after all those burning hot days, the weather felt too beautiful to ignore. Then there were hurried footsteps, rainwater everywhere, someone passing too close beside me before my brain could even catch up.

Just a piercing catching light for half a second. A face passing too quickly, the mole on the left cheek suddenly visible a little too much without those glasses. And then gone again.

Such a small moment.

But somehow the rain made everything ache again.

And maybe that’s what I hate the most. Not the feeling itself, but the person I become inside it. The overthinking, the noticing, the quiet jealousy sitting where peace used to be. I dread this version of me more than anything else.

Thank You For Reading!

📌 This story is published under *Quirky Rants* — a home for unfiltered thoughts, everyday oddities, and real, relatable voices. Want to share your story too? Join us here.

[embed]Quirky Rants — A Publication! Unfiltered opinions on everyday oddities!medium.com