Jealousy always has been my cross, the weakness and woundedness in me that has most often caused me to feel ugly and unlovable, like the Bad Seed. Iโ€™ve had many years of recovery and therapy, years filled with intimate and devoted friendships, yet I still struggle. I know that when someone gets a big slice of pie, it doesnโ€™t mean thereโ€™s less for me. In fact, I know that there isnโ€™t even a pie, that thereโ€™s plenty to go around, enough food and love and air. But I donโ€™t believe it for a second. I secretly believe thereโ€™s a pie. I will go to my grave brandishing my fork. โœจ Anne Lamott (2008). Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith, p.86, Penguin

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