As I take my first bite of my turkey club wrap, I can’t help but think about the struggles we in the vegetarian community often face. There is a lot of tension in my identity as someone who doesn’t eat meat but likes eating meat sometimes. More consequentially, there are a lot of dirty looks, secrets whispered behind backs, and irreparable rifts in friendships that result from my identity, even on a daily basis.

For example, today. I walked down the streets of [redacted], from my office building to the local food co-op. I passed by a man with a weed whacker and gave him a nod. He smiled at me and revealed a few big teeth. I was sure to make a note of the composition of his mouth, particularly the size and layout of his teeth, before positioning myself a safe distance from his whacking. I waited for the crosswalk to open itself up to me via a symbolic shift from Palm Of Red Hand to Side Profile Of White Person Walking.

As I walked across the street, I homed in on the church of christ science and adjacent christian science reading room. Every time I look at those buildings, I fall into their trap:

1. Ask myself if this is a church (and adjacent reading room) of scientology.
2. Ask myself whether there are scientologists in [redacted].
3. Consider walking into the reading room to ask someone else these questions.
4. Decide not to walk in and fail to break the cycle.

Indeed, it seems my fate is to never, ever, ever find out whether there are scientologists in [redacted]. It didn’t matter to me much today, because the food co-op is right next to the reading room. The promise of lunch was more appealing, immediate, and familiar than the possibility of getting to the bottom of questions that have haunted me for years, learning more about the world around me, and forming new and meaningful connections with members of my community.

I approached the front door of the co-op and noticed a person my age walking in tentatively, as if he wasn’t quite sure where to go. First time, buddy? I could’ve ruined his whole life if I wanted to. In that moment, I was an apex predator, and he was the most vulnerable among us earth dwellers. With a single “First time, buddy?” and a well-timed sneer, I could’ve had him for lunch instead of whatever the co-op was offering today.

I walked into the co-op and made my way to the “prepared, refrigerated lunch” section. I scrutinized their offerings, and that’s when I was reminded of my status as a vegetarian and the hostility of the world toward people like me. They had several wraps available, all of which contained meat—aside from two vegetarian options that mentioned something about beans. Casual vegetarians truly are the scrape of society, I thought. The forgotten and disgusting piece of someone else’s gum that gets stuck to the soles of our shoes. I am that piece of gum, and the [redacted] Food Co-op is the shoe. They do not care about me; they’ve never cared about me.

I turned around, and the shelves of natural supplements and aluminum-free deodorant confirmed something that I’d been speculating for the entire minute that it took me to select the turkey club wrap and cucumber dill salad for lunch today: this world is a cruel, unforgiving, monstrous, hateful, disordered, unflinching one, and we are chewed-up pieces of gum with no say in anything.

“Aren’t you a vegetarian?” The cashier seemed to say to me as I carefully placed my soon-to-be meal on the metal table for valuation of store items. “Shut the fuck up, you disgusting hippie,” I seemed to say to him as I inserted my debit card into his pathetic “cashless” money-transfer machine.

On the walk back from the co-op to the office, I saw my friend [redacted] across the street. I was waiting for the symbols to welcome me into the street, and he called out to me like you call out to someone far, far, far away, in a dream. You can never reach them no matter how loud you try to yell, and they will never hear you no matter how big their ears are. In our case, though, we were not in a dream, but it was a bit difficult to hear each other. We were two animals howling at each other across a fiercely coursing river of hot garbage, mere centimeters from being swept away by the current in each moment.

[redacted] seemed surprised to see me. He was with a girl that I didn’t recognize, and they were holding hands. Who’s the chick? I wanted to howl across the river. My business casual attire acted as a sort of muzzle. I’m working today, I yelled to him. I’m going to the town hall for a parking ticket, he yelled to me. Wow, I yelled back. This world is a cruel, unforgiving, monstrous, hateful, disordered, unflinching one, I seemed to say in the casual shake of my head. See you later, we seemed to say as a new wave of garbage sliced through the river between us.

I crossed the street and walked back to the office. The wrap was good. I didn’t eat the cucumber dill salad yet. We can all eat meat on special occasions. The world is unforgiving enough.