Am I a Bad Person for Wanting Things, or Was I Just Surrounded by Bad People?

I remember wanting a book so badly that I borrowed a few dollars from a relative just to own it, only to be lambasted by my parents.

They treated it like an inexcusable sin when all I wanted was to buy a book. I had already planned to skip breakfast during recess for a week just to pay the money back.

Because I couldn't afford things, I often borrowed books and CDs from my school mates. I treated them with a reverence most people wouldn't understand; I wouldn't even open a book too wide for fear of cracking the spine, and I never, ever folded a corner.

The sting of being poor wasn't just about the things I lacked; it was the way it made me a target for suspicion.

A schoolmate lost her copy of the same book I had got lambasted to buy. She accused me of stealing hers, framing it as though I had borrowed it and refused to return it.

That humiliating position of having to prove my own property-I even went so far as to tell her how I had to borrow money for the book and what happened afterward.

Why would I borrow what I already owned?

Just because I was the girl who had to borrow things, people naturally assumed I must also be a thief.

Even though we remained friends today, that memory hasn't left me. It taught me early on that when you have nothing, people often assume the worse of you.

To make matters worse, there was this frenemy in my school that weaponized my poverty to label me as someone who coveted what others had.

There is a specific kind of cruelty in being bullied for being poor.

She whispered that I was someone to be guarded against, telling others to hide their belongings when I was near.

How I find out about what was whispered?

It came from another schoolmate she had been bullying.

This girl was being treated like a servant; the bully would jokingly force her to carry her heavy textbooks, pretending it was all in good fun when it was actually a clear display of control.

There is nothing funny about making someone else carry your weight when you are perfectly capable of doing it yourself.

I tried to help.

I jokingly told the girl - right in front of the bully - that she should just drop the books on the ground. It was my way of hinting that she didn't have to do things for the bully.

We became close friends sometime after that. I think as she got to know the real me, she felt a sense of duty to speak up. Though she normally stayed out of the gossip, she finally told me what the bully had been doing.

I had been feeling that coldness from our common acquaintances for some time, watching people pull away from me one by one. While it was a relief to finally have confirmation that I wasn't imagining it, the reality of it was deeply disturbing.

It's frightening how a high school girl could be so calculated. If she was capable of that level of social destruction back then, I shudder to think how that talent has been amplified and refined in adulthood.

She was way more than a mean girl.

Looking back, it was pure projection.

She alienated me to distract from the fact that she was the one truly coveting thing. Accusing me of wanting things while she was busy seducing and stealing boyfriends just because she could. She would even flaunt it in my face, bragging about exactly how she did it.

It's infuriating to know that she tried to mask her own nature by using my vulnerability as a deflection. She isolated me, making me out to be the awful one while she was the one causing real damage.

That habit followed her straight into adulthood; a friend recently told me how this same woman stole her boyfriend, proving that the pattern never stopped.

I never had a coveting problem like she insinuated it - she was the problematic one.

Photo by Andreea Avramescu on Unsplash

I have felt painfully self-conscious for a long time, doubting the intentions of my own heart.

Does coveting someone else's life differ from desiring a life like theirs?

I'm not trying to preach or provide a theological interpretation; I'm simply trying to understand myself.

Did I really covet the achievements and possessions of others when I thought I was aspiring to reach those same heights myself?

My inner compass tells me they are two entirely different things: one is looking up to someone with respect; the other is looking sideways at them with malice.

They feel like two sides of the same coin, which is why I've carried this lingering fear of my own desires - a fear that my drive to improve my life might somehow cross an invisible line into something darker.

Did I somehow cross that line along the way without noticing?

When I see a successful businesswoman, I aspire to be like her; I want to work to achieve that for myself. But did I ever covet her success in a malicious way?

When I asked, Why do they have that and not me? it was because I wanted to understand where I had gone wrong or what I was lacking. It wasn't because I thought, They took what belongs to me - give it back.

I never resented them, and I never thought I could do better simply by taking over their life.

I didn't want her to fail so I could take her spot; I just wanted to create an opportunity to earn a spot of my own.

Isn't that the very catalyst of human growth? Isn't that why we share success stories - to encourage and motivate others?

I realize now that some people interpret that drive the wrong way. In my previous life- the time before my great fall - I saw how even a little progress could attract unwanted attention and malicious glares.

Writing this now, I want to believe my intentions were mostly good, yet I still find myself searching my memory for lost fragments.

To be honest, I carry a fear of my own dark side- a fear that something malicious might take over my conscious mind without me even realizing it.

Because I was accused of so many things I didn't do, I've been left wondering, what if I did do them and just don't know it?

Such is the terrifying power of gaslighting.

It has wrecked my sense of self to the point where I go looking for some kind of hidden darkness, wondering if I had somehow let loose of those envious thoughts - allowing them to fester and grow legs until they walked on their own when they were simply seeds planted there by someone else.

I have seen clear examples of this coveting nature firsthand.

I had a good-for-nothing sibling who was as cruel and wicked as Damien in The Omen - a story I will share someday.

She contributed absolutely nothing, yet she expected me to pay her a high salary for experience she didn't have and for work she was actually supposed to do but flatly refused to perform.

The level of entitlement was unbelievable: she and my so-called parents even went so far as to outright express that my business - the fruit of my own labor - should, and would, be hers one day.

She felt entitled to take what was mine simply because she wanted it. She was a rotten child who believed she was owed everything her siblings had, throwing tantrums whenever she couldn't get exactly what she expected.

I'm nothing but beyond furious and I don't care if the world label me as petty for not giving in because we're family.

It wasn't just that she wanted what I had; she would demand the very things I was still using, expecting me to hand them over and go without. She was like a playground bully demanding the ice cream I was eating.

Is this what family is supposed to be?

Parents acting in complicity with the favorite child to seize whatever the others have worked their asses off to build? What do they call it - pooling resources? Taxing me?

I say pooling resources with the deepest sarcasm, because there was no pool; there was only a drain. In reality, it was one of the worst cases of coveting I've ever seen.

Then there was the former employee who told others, If she can own a business, then I can too.

Usually, we use the success of others to motivate ourselves, but her tone carried a much darker connotation. It was an insult - as if I were so less than that she felt entitled to do what she did next.

After I took her under my wing, she proceeded to steal my client list and smear my name to poach them.

It's like inviting someone into my home, only for her to decide she can simply squat there - eventually trying to kick me out of my own front door.

Picture this: someone looking at a Sultan's palace and deciding they deserve a piece of it - giving themselves the right to walk in and grab whatever they feel entitled to: a brick, a window panel, or a gold frame.

They walk away thinking they've done nothing wrong, justifying the theft by devaluing the owner.

But at the end of the day, it's still just looting. They want what others have, and they've allowed their own envy to grow so far out of hand that it became a license to loot.

Photo by Dong Cheng on Unsplash

When I see someone has something I admire, I might wish to have it for myself - not out of competition, but because I trust their judgment.

I use their choice as a benchmark; I don't have all the time in the world to vet every single thing so thoroughly myself. If I happen to need the same item, seeing someone I respect believe in it helps me make a decision.

It isn't about proving I can afford it, and it certainly isn't about trying to outdo them.

It's exactly like looking at a reliable review before a purchase - I see the value they've found and recognize it as something I want for my own life.

Yet, people would rip me apart, calling me competitive for that.

We work hard for what we have, and there is nothing wrong with treating ourselves within reason.

Photo by Manuel Meurisse on Unsplash

I know that unchecked coveting can cultivate a spirit within that would consumes a person.

While some let that green jealousy fester quietly within, others allow it to manifest and destroy those around them. For some, it is a path of bitterness; for others, it is an active choice to lash out.

It is never just a one-time mistake.

They take the easy way out by stealing light from others - one step leading inevitably to the next.

Once they cross that line the first time, the second, third, and countless times follow with ease, much like the pattern of a serial killer. They were guilty from the first act, so they simply go on a rampage.

This is probably why I keep seeing the same faces in my circle repeating these behaviors.

These people feel entitled to what others have built; they don't ask, they simply help themselves and snatch the life right out of someone else's hands.

I often find myself questioning the fairness of it all: Why is this person getting all the good bits despite the way they've behaved? Why didn't it go to the other person who actually deserves it? What did they ever do to earn that?

I worry - was asking those questions crossing the line into coveting?

Perhaps I am too paranoid, too anxious. I feel as though I must never stop asking myself: Am I being greedy? Am I doing something wrong? Did I inadvertently ruin a life, or worse, steal one?

Maybe I have seen too much darkness in others, and now I keep myself on my toes as a form of self-control.

I have become afraid to even participate in the basic trust of borrowing and returning, even though my conscious is clear.

It's as if the simple act of asking will be judged as a sign of coveting even if I know that when I borrow something, I am committed to returning it - I have no desire to keep what isn't mine.

Yet, the unease remains.

My logic tells me how ridiculous this is: if borrowing were inherently immoral, then mortgages, car loans, and libraries shouldn't exist.

I realize now that I am watching myself through the dirty lens of others. It's a procedural error of my self-doubt: I'm trying to reach a verdict on my soul, but I've been handed a file full of someone else's mess.

It is exhausting to constantly have to vet my own innocent intentions. It has made me feel unwelcome within my own community, forced into a state of hyper-vigilance just to prove I am not what they say I am.

Most people just live their lives, but I find myself performing a million-question audit on my own soul every time I ask for a stapler or a favor.

I am trapped in a cycle of over-justification, trying to provide a defense for a crime I never committed, simply because I've been conditioned to believe that my basic needs are actually hidden greed.

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This entry is likely too long and dense for most; I imagine only the few who have been truly supportive will stay to read it.

I drafted this - uncovering far more resentment than I expected - after watching a series about a person born into poverty, used by the rich and powerful, who eventually transformed into a vengeful, greedy, coveting ghost.

It wasn't the supernatural element that haunted me; it was the human one. I saw mirrors of my own life in her: the experience of being dirt poor, the deep sense of lack, and the longing for things I never had.

It made me wonder: could my desires get so far out of hand that I become that ghost too?

©Britt H.

Thank you for reading this.

More about the person behind the writing in My Introductory Post