I’ve noticed that I have a sliver of jealousy. It exists right at the border of what I've already done and where I want to be.

To start, I'm incredibly jealous of people who live in Montreal still or moved there as adults to settle their lives in a new (and beautiful) city. I sometimes wish I could have moved there as an adult to rediscover it in my mid 20.

I'm jealous of people who have fulfilling careers. Who planned meticulously, with internships and fellowships and all the rest of the "ships", most of which I probably don't even know exist.

I'm jealous of the people who aren't afraid to DO things. Make their own clothes, publish their writing (without fear) , dye their hair crazy colors. People who know who they are. OR people who DON'T know who they are, but are not afraid to try everything until they find it.

I'm jealous of people who spend their entire lives in one place, knowing where their home is and who they are. Understanding, concretely, where they fit in the world. In my dreams I imagine it’s much easier to fly that way. Or maybe, when you know you fit concretely where you are, there is no need to fly.

I'm jealous of my friends who stayed after uni. Who made their lives where they were and didn't run off in search of something different.

I'm jealous of the girl I was, so full of hope and optimism that the next step and the next move would be the one to fix everything. SHE had it all figured out, and whether or not the plan worked - it feels good to have a plan you're sure of.

Funnily enough, I'm also jealous of the woman I will become. I know she's passed this point in her life and she has the answers I'm looking for now.

Or maybe I'll look back at this little rant and laugh, because maybe I'll still be jealous.

Maybe I'll always have a sliver of jealousy living on the border of where I am now and who I want to be.

On the other side of this same coin, I think, is this belief that I can also do all the crazy things. I too can dye my hair crazy colors. I can move back to the city I love. I can write things and post them without caring what people might think. I can find or build a home that I concretely belong in.

It’s hard to confront the knowledge that the only thing standing between me and everything I want and everything I can be, is the decision to make a choice. As I’m getting older I realize life itself is not difficult. It could be easy to just do what most people do, go along and never think twice about whether or not this is who or what you want to be. The difficulty in life comes with knowing we have choices and knowing those choices have consequences. I think my jealousy stems from longing for the choices I didn’t make. I’ll never know what life would have looked like for me if I didn’t leave Montreal in 2023. When I feel lonely and sad I like to imagine how much happier I would have been, but those wistful what-ifs are just that, my imagination.

The truth is… (and as I’m writing this I know it may take me months or years to implement it) I want to be the girl who writes, who reads, who paints, who dances, who lives life in a way that feels authentic.

Maybe my jealousy stems from seeing people live their life, dreams first and societal obligations second. Maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I can make different choices and not feel this way.

Or Maybe I'll always have a sliver of jealousy living on the border of where I am now and who I want to be.