Paranoia

I used to think
I would never be
jealous.
Now I am.

It's a nasty feeling.
It feels like a leech stuck in my neck,
greedily sucking out all happiness.
But it's not a leech -
it's a part of me.

I'm disgusted with myself.

I don't want to be possessive,
but I am.
I don't want to get furious,
but I do.
I feel like a rabid animal,
sulfureous,
about to spit fire.

I'm afraid I might hurt him -
not with fire, but with words.
I might want to hurt him first,
before I get hurt myself.

Breaking up
suddenly sounds
like a good thing.
Why should I wait for
him to discard me?

I'm making myself sick
with paranoia.
I feel like a loser
who has lost her mind.

I used to think jealousy is
a symptom
of a low self-esteem.
Only weak people have it.
Is love making me weak?
There is this expression
»to have a weakness for somebody« -
is that what it means?

I'm ashamed of being jealous.
But I can't help it.

I cried all night.

Even paranoids can have real enemies. The Illuminati Republicans are reading my mind with microwaves. Their Black Heliocopters are circling outside my bedroom window playing Wagner and Black Sabbath over their p.a.system. Bill Gates has downloaded bootleg Beatles mp3's onto my iPod...