This envious jealousy that perpetrates every moment I hear about it. Coming in last, to not even placing. The preferential character’s demise sentenced to looking outside the glass, again.

Feels like venerable scope. Magnified or otherwise, my clutches crawl at something deep and lingering. A sentiment that cast its shadow but I have yet to define.

If my choices are dismayed in heartache, and that which I cannot control amplifies the pain – is it ignorance or clarity that offers minor gleams of overrated happiness?