Comments: Im lost in this moment, this smallest piece of time, and if I hadnt wrote this, you wouldent know, not of the desk, or of the number 2 pencil, or the teacher trying to say whatever. Nobosy knows what he wanted to teach, cuz he didnt write it down, didnt record this like I did, I guess ill help him out, and tell yall it was a lesson on the history of America, pretty broad, pretty damn broad, and I just made the decision to not write any more about him, hes not even trying to be remembered, he may as well not have happened, he didnt. Im in a room with a teacher who doesnt exist, and this prose dont exist, Infact, im barley even a concept, locked in my writing, im a recorded process of thought, a thought entering your head, your non-existent, empty, head. Heres to the few who are real, who exist, who see this and understand every line, find me, ive been misplaced amongst the non-existent.. theyve taken me, im trapped in the world of the fake. Help.