It’s so wonderful to be able to give someone a meaningful
gift. Not necessarily expensive, but something that means a lot to the
receiver. Something that they have wanted for the longest time, but for
whatever reason, haven’t been able to get it for themselves.
About a year ago, I had the honour of being able to give
something like that to a friend. He was just lazy and procrastinated a lot, and
therefore was unable to get it for himself. It wasn’t expensive. Essentially,
it was an experience that I hoped would get him to take up an activity that is
very close to my heart. He’d been wanting to do it for a long time, but, once a
procrastinator, always a procrastinator.
Long story short, he tried out the activity and loved it. I
was really glad. He even continued with it and I felt very proud of myself for
making a believer of him. However, a while later, something strange happened.
As he got more involved, and became even more experimental with the activity, I
began to feel… jealous. Yes, that ugly monster reared its head. And yes,
there’s absolutely nothing logical about the way I feel. But there it was.
Once again, I have nothing conclusive to say to end this
post. I feel bad that I feel this way. Maybe it’s because this activity is so
close to my heart and sharing it, despite taking nothing away from me, makes me
unnecessarily jealous. Maybe it’s the history I share with this friend. Either
way, I now live with this constant feeling of pride and jealousy, vacillating
between the two every time I hear of him having achieved a new feat. Maybe I’m
petty. Maybe I’m just human.
