I sometimes see young happy lovers at the mall or in a restaurant or even in a movie and admit at times being envious of their happiness. Well at least they seem happy; and if they walk happy, talk happy, smile happy, then, allow me the hasty inference, they are therefore happy. It's too tiring to pretend happy after all.
I am thus always guilty of taking the reflexive turn, and its logic goes: Given that other people are happy in love, I ask why am I not? If other people--and they seem no better than me or I than them--can be happily in love; if others seem to easily have found love without lifting a finger or having deserved it; if they love even without knowing why they do or what love is; if that man has a trophy girl or that lady a man who will remain faithful to him--I ask, childishly, why not me? How simple it would be if I can only say I'll have what he's having.
You tell me that envy is one of the seven deadly sins, and that Thou shall not covet your neighbor's wife. Yet if to covet something were to be sinful, then all of us are sinners whenever we wish we had that new cellular phone in the hands of the man in the next table or when we someday dream of owning a beach house like the ones we see in glossy picture magazines. To covet, in its simplest and purest form, is to ardently wish. And I have neither heard of a coach sternly reminding his track star not to covet the gold medal in the next meet nor have I seen a grownup forbidding a child to wish for something for his birthday because that would mean breaking the tenth. So when does envy become a "sin" and coveting something inordinate?
And why is it that while his watch or his body will never faze me or make me look twice, his lover's happiness always leaves me in envy? Need my soul worry already?
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