I had “friends” who would have unfriended, un-added, and unfollowed, me within split seconds if I hinted at something they disagreed with. It seems as though open-mindedness is now one of the greatest virtues. We often hear blaring news articles on our phone or computers practically screaming racist, homophobic, xenophobic, ergophobic, panphobic, and arachnophobic. And if the last adjective threw you for a loop, much did the world I began to get to know. I sprinkled in the last three “-phobics'' to add a hint of seasoning. Food would be distasteful without spice. It turns out that without “the spice”, insults and arguments would be as elementary as a bland casserole or chicken dish. This world is so small and if you don’t squeeze to fit into the puzzle, well that is quite a bummer. The life of the misfit can feel very unfortunate, let me tell you. I bent and twisted all of my literature in hopes of contorting them to fit into that minuscule glass box. The coveted box that sat on the teacher’s desk. Anything outside of the box was, well, I do not know. I do not want to know. Being shunned or tossed into a corner, with the wilting orchids and pesky house flies, has never been an aspiration of mine. I frolicked over the pins and needles scattered on the surface below me. If I were to miss a beat, my opaque and waif-like bubble would have popped. The iridescent anomaly of my existence would have transpired and evaporated into the space and time continuum. One wrong step and your condolences, regarding me and my once hellishly loving relationship with the rhinoceroses in the china shop, could be written and signed dearly in the local times. The local times itself was a dense piece. Far denser than sweet my grandmother Jojo’s breakfast pound cake “delight”. “Delightfully” healthy and disastrously horrendous. Terribly similar to the times, I am afraid. The walnuts could be thought of as the crossword puzzle. Not my favorite. Also, the bait or the distraction, masking the various other consistencies in the block on your plate.  However, some folks find them a charming addition to a Sunday morning, rather than enjoying the front page facade. Next, we have the persimmons, the main culprit, the thieves, those who snatch and demolish the decency of the delicacy, the headlines. Persimmons themselves often make the headlines: headlines for being the most revolting ingredient in the breakfast cake. The 7am headlines scream at you ever before your significant other, legal guardian, or alarm clock have the chance to embrace their inhale.  

What a world.