Rantings: It Hurts

It hurts not to know who you are and what you want to become.
It hurts shuffling a bottle of coke from one hand to the other in a crowded restaurant, because the ME part of you feels left-handed, while the YOU part feels right-handed.
It hurts wondering if the fair0hair lady before you drinks bottled water everyday of her life while your pocket feels a snag from the loss of deciding to have a go at a can of sprite.
It hurts to watch her swagger to your side of the table, slam down the bottle on the table, and all you can do is peer from under your askew peak cap for fear of finding out she's a telepath.
It hurts to see people stare at the way you chew swallowable lumps of cooked cassava flour in your mouth, while the scrapping noises of their forks across their plates of fried delicacies doesn't seem to bother them.
It hurts to stare at the glistering bottle of coke and wonder how soon will it be before my body will start renegading on my high sugar consumption level?
It hurts to make submission after submissions and all you get is a blank stare from your email account.