I hate my pals and their perfect lives

FRIENDS MAKE ME JEALOUS

I SECRETLY hate my mates.

They think that I’m their pal. I pretend to be delighted when one meets a gorgeous bloke or another bags a fantastic promotion, but I’m a seething mass of jealousy and resentment.

The eight women in my circle assume I’m a nice person, but I’m not. I’m bitter and twisted.

I smile sweetly and say things like: “You are so brilliant,” or: “I adore your outfit,” but I don’t mean it.

I love it when they fail. I’m never happier than when one of my mates gets dumped or another is ripped off.

If I had my way, I’d have a massive clear out and not see any of them again. But I’m stuck in a place where I’m surrounded by everyone I grew up with and I don’t have the money or the confidence to get out.