the words for jealousy and regret are the same in my mind

i feel jealous of january, but not a recent one;

i feel jealous of january 2018 before everything went wrong,

before i made my stupidest and most costly mistake, before i could prepare to make more like it for years to come,

before we met, and then im jealous of the january we did meet

and i'm jealous that things were still okay, and we went out for dinner and okay,

maybe we got set up, but i prefer getting set up by your friends so that you finally talk to this magnificent person you've been stupid for for months,

to being set up by life, and the government, and the people in charge - to losing those friends and getting cold and being cruel

i thought i had healed of my cruelty, but it turns out i'm equally as capable of pushing that evil outwards and weilding it like a knife

or a sledgehammer, or a poison, or my own bare knuckles,

and i thought i was doing well in january - and i am jealous of january every time february comes around

and i am jealous of january when it's july, and i am jealous of january when it's september, and i am older now,

and i'm getting older every day, and so is everyone else, and the older we get the further away january is and the more broken everything i care about becomes

and people i used to respect and love turn out to be shadows or cardboard or glass, or something that breaks or corrodes

or something i can't touch anymore, i can't see,

your voice is like rain in the distance when i ask when we should meet up, i don't remember what it was like to look forward to something because i can't anymore.

i always hated those stories about people who become cold and distant because their heart has been broken too many times, so they shut out anyone who comes near them who might take hold of it again so they get to decide if it breaks and when,

and i thought it was so sad, and i was sure no matter what i went through my heart would always be an open door under a porch light with the smell of fresh baking coming out down the path to greet you and draw you in,

i was certain i'd stay warm and reckless through everything,

but i have lost too many januaries now to be sure.

i am so jealous of a past self for what she didn't have to go through, and i am so protective of her, like i could stop time, or change it, so she doesn't have to end up like me

it's like looking at the start and end of a story and wishing they didn't need each other. it's like taking january out of the rest of the year and idolising it. like dragging someone by the hand and begging them not to follow you.

i am jealous of januaries past, but i hold no hope for those coming. the door is there, but it's not open; the light is on above the porch, but not through the window. it's like i am waiting for someone to come home,

but i don't care if they come in