Green Eyes

Whenever I see a new writer stretching their wings, or a veteran author soaring to new heights, a thought pops into my head.

"You son of a bitch!"

I'm afraid the green-eyed monster inside of us all rears his ugly little head. Sometimes he creeps up with a "I wish I was at that point" or "Man, if only I had written something that great." Other times, he's out and obvious, throwing around phrases like, "I'm better than that talentless bastard! How did he even get to that point?!" I'm sure any writer has often felt that way. It's understandable, and normal, and all-too-human.

But it's a beast we have to reign inside of ourselves. No matter our dissatisfaction with our place, progression, or future, we shouldn't let those thoughts dominate us. Our lives are our own, not to be dictated by the successes or failures of others. To do otherwise is to lead ourselves down a path best left forgotten. Down it lays bitterness and regret, the rock we dash ourselves over again and again. Who cares if someone's zooming ahead of us? Who cares if someone is deservedly in the spotlight? We'll get where we're going in due time, and even if we don't?

Well, at least we had the experience. For that, we're better than when we started.