Greener Pastures

I have a friend, of whom I'm insanely jealous of. I've always been. Ever since we were both in high school, I've always been her lackey. She's pretty in an exotic way, and she's adopted so she doesn't know what her background consists of. Men of all ages adore her. She's got this long luxurious hair, she exercises constantly so she has the body everyone wants, she has her own car (something that, I don't care how old you are, in college is coveted), and she has remarkable fashion sense. I used to hang with her, partly because she was my only "friend" and partly because I made her feel better about herself. You know, the whole "Oh here's my friend who's not as pretty as I am which makes me even more appealing" thing. And it was too a point that I didn't even try to fix myself up around her. For what? I knew that no matter what I did, she would be (and look) better at it.

I know, I know. The grass ain't always greener. She had trouble with her foster family, moved out at a young age, and she has serious trouble holding down a man. So in reality, I shouldn't be jealous of her. Then why am I? There's no self analysis here, readers, because I can't figure this one out.