I hate to confess it, yet I was jealousy. I knew I always was, digging hard to verify that I was superior to others. Though I tried hard to conceal it, this time it’s bright as the light so that I couldn’t deny.

Few months ago I met this girl, sun. Warm hearted, sweet as sugar, willing to help, good in both oral English and audition. Everybody loved her, including myself. Her skin was smooth, which could be told form the ear posted as the head portrait. Her voice was elegant, taste exquisite, and the net friends’ comments are that she was amazing and ladylike. Knowing I was born with a cracked voice, I felt affronted.

I have no desire for affection from anyone, and dare not raise that feeling. I order myself to deem that I don’t deserve it, ‘cause once I did, I would succumb to hatred, hatred for the worship I had no access to and the ones who got more than me. I won’t be like myself any more, but a creature with no emotion but a strong sense of self-esteem and self-contempt.

Today I visited her space. Little surprised, she was not charming at all--overweight, medium height, dark skin, plain face. First I was nearly released, then regretful, felt like evil, sensed that my heart was malign, my personality was by far distorted.

Then I started to reckon, how much pain had she concealed every time I pointedly recommended her witness and smartness? I knew well what it meant for a plain-looking girl to be spitefully buffed as charming. Yet her essays were full of cheerful stories and grateful sensations of life, so genuine that I could not blame a thing on her, and then kept feeling contemptible myself.

I always quailed to express my true feelings, even if I do, it must be hidden under the cover of a foreign language. That’ll be far less harsh. I had little tolerance for people shining a little brighter than me. For those much higher and holier, I would submit to, that’s the way I make through. I have no right to express my pity. I was the one to be sneered, jeered and spitted on.

Yet I’ve learned, everyone was born with an original sin, I am human and I make mistakes. For as long as I am living, I must go on condemning myself and perfecting my personality.

posted on 2008-03-29 11:39 烟波浩淼_sjtu 阅读(66) 评论(12)  编辑  收藏 网摘收藏