You can find me with my head in a book, ear buds plugged into my mp3 player. It help keeps reality where it belongs . . . out there. Some days you may find me channel-surfing, looking for a game or some show where all the problems are nicely resolved in an hour or less. Most days I'm sitting here in my chair, two computer screens on my desk. That's right, two! I'm playing the PS3 on one and browsing the internet on the other. Reality doesn't stand a chance of getting any closer than arm's length.
You see, reality and I aren't on speaking terms, and we haven't been for quite some time. It accuses me of "checking out". I accuse it of being cruel and harsh. What do you think?
Reality is dollar bills I hand out to homeless people stretching out a hand. Each time driving home the point that there's nothing I can do to change their lives.
Reality is the bus people that aren't quite all there. The people at the downtown stop with empty faces and vacant eyes.
Reality is the girl coming home for Thanksgiving, her body found a few days later.
Reality is the mail from the charities and organizations, all telling me that -
These people are hungry
These people are cold
These people are sick
These people are dying
Won't you help them?
Can't you help them?
Reality is bills, bills, and more bills, 'cause nothing in life is free.
Reality is the broken hearts, the broken dreams, the broken lives, the broken minds . . .
And what do I have to offer? Religious platitudes? Hollow words of false encouragement? An impotent feeling of guilt and shame that I can do nothing to lighten the burdens they bear?
So goodbye reality. It's been . . . real.
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