You feel it the hardest and admit it the least. The green goes inward and you go quiet.
When the green hits, you don't reach out — you fold in. The party where they're laughing with someone gorgeous, the friend who's suddenly winning at everything: you feel the spike, then you smile, then you go strangely quiet for the rest of the night and tell yourself you're fine. You're not avoiding jealousy — you feel it harder than the loud ones do. You just decided long ago that needing reassurance is embarrassing, so you swallow it and let it curdle into distance. The cost is that the people you love can tell something shifted, but you've made it impossible for them to help.
Get your read — free on iPhoneyou feel the green harder than anyone, then go quiet and call it 'fine'. the silence isn't peace — it's a confession you won't make.