Hunger Games

The trip fills me with hunger; hunger for food, constantly searching, searching for food; hunger for looks, that pitiful sidelong glances at that wretched, plain visage; hunger for acceptance, to be recognized as one belonging to that echelon; hunger for success, that miserable condition of downright and abject failure. I need that rowing, that shooting, that running, to fill my hunger, a void of insatiable spirits. I cannot have anyone hitchhiking. I need to do all these alone. This is my struggle.