This Class on Life is Bizarro


I keep staring outside like something is going to change. 

To lift up, encourage. 

To inspire. 


But it’s just an unchanging landscape, same as yesterday, same as tomorrow. 

Painted by my mind using quarks and atoms to resemble something real. 

But nothing is real


This lesson hits home harder each day. 


If the “World Isn’t Real” was a college class, we would be studying for mid-terms. 

Tomorrow we plan on going to class with a page full of questions. 

The professor isn’t there. 

Personal Time Off. 



We struggle. 

We go back and re-read certain chapters on politics and reality television and their caustic intersection. 

We re-read history only to discover again that this looks like that

Was that real? 

Is this

We check out the chapter on sports. 

The table of contents says it’s there. 

Page 42. 

But it’s a used textbook and those pages have been ripped out. 


The answers aren’t any more clear. 

Maybe worse. 

Definitely worse. 


We are all going to fail for sure. 

But then I re-check the syllabus.  

As long as we just show up, we pass. 




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