check out rafa’s foot, man. i used to be a dancer in my high school days and in our rehearsals and training sessions, often went barefoot. not all the powder and tape in the world could prevent the inevitable cracked callouses and blisters, and when these happened, it was living hell.

it always hurt. those callouses coming open, i mean, and those danged watery blisters. ouch.
whenever rafa loses, big tournament (read: wimbledon 2007 — ack, i named the dreaded tournament!; USO 2007; AO 2007; indian wells 2008; miami 2008; rome 2008) or not (read: rotterdam 2008), it always hurts.
when people never try to find out your side of the story and are quick to form judgements en masse, thereby excluding you from future events/gatherings/etc, it always hurts. no matter how old i become, it will always hurt.
when my own siblings turned their back on me aided by the perception that i am the papa’s girl or that i’ve always had it too good while they had to scrabble for scraps, it always hurts.
when people i thought were my friends cannot be there in times of need, oh it always hurts.
when an ex-boyfriend (or two. or three. or more.) will never relinquish any old thoughts of how bitchy i was in the past and never ceases to let me know about it, it always hurts.
oh it’s that time of the month, believe me. rafa losing yesterday to juan carlos ferrero was bad timing in svelte rogue’s myopic world. novak is my only hope now.

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