Be happy for the success of others. Use it as an inspiration to become all I can be.

I feel it flowing through my body and I want the antidote! Please! A woman I know who is an appalling writer had a story published in a best-selling anthology. Now she’s going to be doing the talk-show circuit…at least it looks like she is. She is also going to help my Mom and my brother get published. Which is great for both of them. But, here is the thing, she used to call me constantly. She was SO desparate and when she emailed me, if I answered her once I got, I swear to GOD 15 emails, so I just stopped responding to her. Also, she would call and she sounded absolutely crazy…I just ruled her out of my life. My family, on the other hand did not. They were, more kind than I was and now that she is doing well she is helping both of them and not me. Now how’s that for a kick in the pants. I want want want for my mother to get a book deal SO much. She has so many stories to tell. And for my brother to be published in an anthology, telling his story would be a gift from God. I think it’s just my thoughts racing like a nasty virus. Something saying that if they get this then I can’t. But that is actually more for that woman. I had to get rid of her…I had a new baby and she really was super weird and kind of stalkerish. But DAMN! Why isn’t it me? And why am I so twisted? I’ve been working on this for so damn long (my novel) and I just want to get it into the world. I want it to be successful…the thing I have to know is that we can ALL succeed. There is room for everyone’s dreams in God’s universe. God wants all of it’s flowers to grow.

Please help me…this is my plea to the universe or anyone else who sees this. Please please please help to rid me of this blight. I’m going to work now. My mom’s in town…she said some stuff that was like salt on the wound…but the wound is bogus and I just need to move on. Okay, it’s out there.

Letting go. Asking for God’s help.

P

So tired of letting this poison swim through my mind. One good squirt like an octopus inking it’s own water. He got published here…Her tits look better there…She is younger, he is more successful…Why can’t I have-? Why don’t I-? Why doesn’t he, she it, they? It is like torture. Like I’ve got to tie tethers to my friends, enemies…track their progress or lack thereof…get pulled up or down depending on their actions. I ain’t proud of this…it just is. Ego itching…don’t wanna scratch.