I realise almost daily that people’s deffinition of hard times varies to almost infinite degrees. Hearing someone vent about how hard things have gotten and then to warch them do things I can only wish for sometimes pushes me over the edge. I feel like vommiting right now from the envy clawing its way into my heart. And I am a hypocrite. My struggle is nothing to compare to some. And I don’t want to invalidate the fact that these others are genuinely struggling in whatever area of their life is harder, but it makes it so much more difficult to be content, to persevere with a right heart, when involuntary spasms of jealousy hit me full in the face.
Boston cir. 1775
Photo by Ricky Uz
Resentment kills a fool, and envy slays the simple.