Jealousy is an ugly thing. Less hideous is its more innocuous cousin, envy. Envy is more quiet, less wicked, but it still makes you feel, and it is still coloured green.

Envy must be the explanation, for loneliness is a tired excuse. Yearning to have what someone else does, but in my own way. It seems to come so easy to her, but I will always be struggling, always be just watching, wishing.

Crying myself to sleep.

I couldn't stop, could not stem the tide. With my arms over my head I sobbed out loud, and kicked the air and asked for some sort of deliverance. Asked to be heard. I don't want what she has, because I am so happy that she has what she has and I want her to always be this happy, this blessed, because I love her like a sister. But I want to have what I want, what I need. Why won't you hear me? Why won't you come? How many tears must I shed before you listen? Before you decide I have cried enough?

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