I feel like a prata

I swear I don't know how I came to be at this stage. This state of being.

I hate this conflict of emotions. I feel resentful. Then touched. Then regretful. Then wistful. Then helpless. Then hopeful. Then utterly confused. Then resentful.

Surely a human being cannot be capable of so many emotions without bursting at the seams.

Surely it must be illegal to tug at the hearstrings in such a manner. Wait - not tug. More like a hard yank.

I feel being pulled from everywhere - stretched out like a roti prata dough. Whirled around and slammed against the table. Whirl and slam. Whirl and slam.

Over and over again.