There is no person alive as insecure as that last slice of pizza.
Just imagine it. There you are, completely alone, sitting in your desolate box. Everyone is looking at you and thinking “that would be great but is it really worth it?”
You’re just as good as the rest. You were made at the same time and it’s only a matter of bad luck that you ended up as the last slice. Everyone around you was haphazardly picked up, held, and enjoyed.
And here you are, growing older, growing colder, surrounded by crumbs of happiness until you are too old and too cold and seemingly more and more alone.
And then eventually someone comes by and just closes the box and throws you away. You were there with everyone else and you watched them go and live and you are still alive, but you are useless, never to enjoy and never to be enjoyed.