When you wake up tomorrow, you will be the most intelligent person on Earth.

I stared at this curious pop-up in the center of my computer screen. Not being exceptionally intelligent— it was, after all, still the night before—I had no idea what had caused this message to appear. I yawned, powered down my laptop, and went to bed.

           The next morning, as I fumbled to silence the incessant beep! beep! beep! beep!, I recalled the previous night’s computer message. Tomorrow had arrived. Either I was the most intelligent person on Earth, or—hmmmm. Did I really want to know? I Googled “intelligent, definition”:

           being able to easily learn or understand things and to deal with new or

           difficult situations;

           having the capacity for learning, reasoning, understanding, and similar

           forms of mental activity;

           having sound thought or good judgement and an aptitude for grasping

           truths, relationships, facts, meanings, etc.

Aha! Intelligent indicated ability, capacity, or aptitude—without the slightest hint that I might have exploited even an iota of this potential. So, even if I was the most intelligent person on Earth, I could conceivably be the most ignorant. That I had perceived this paradox reminded me that a trait of intelligent people is that they’re aware of what they don’t know. I chuckled and shut down the computer.

           As I got ready for work, my thoughts returned to the computer’s message. If I was superintelligent, my off-the-charts IQ would have been engendered either by my fairy godmother or by my wicked stepmother. Unknown forces would be using me to facilitate their agenda for good or evil. I had to admit that I was impressed at having such insight before my morning coffee. Thank you, Fairy Godmother?

           With my Keurig machine humming like a hive of honeybees, I searched the cupboard for cinnamon. Impulsively I rearranged the rows of spices alphabetically and then, while waiting for the drip to finish, scanned the front page of the Democrat Gazette. I was about to turn to the sports section when I stopped. I had total recall of all the front page articles. Whoa! This is too weird.

           Quickly I scanned the sports page and then dropped the newspaper. All I had to do was think of a team, and immediately I knew its win, loss, tie, and win-loss percentage standings. I could rattle off all the players and their stats. Wow, if this knowledge translates to the office football pool, I’m about to strike it rich. Heck, online betting is more like it!

           At the office, I performed my entire week’s tedious tasks with lightning speed and had just Googled “online betting” when my colleague emitted a string of expletives. Clever as I now was, I couldn’t pretend not to have heard. “What’s the matter?”

           “I finally managed to pop open my multi-tool to change the flashlight battery, and all these little pieces fell out!”

           I went to his desk and observed the tiny screws, a metal ring with a bent wire, clear plastic washers, a metal washer, metal triangle, dead battery, and the new battery. “Hmmm, let’s see.” Deftly I reassembled the components and snapped the tool shut. Then I pressed the flashlight button.

           My colleague stared as the beam splayed across his desk. Finally he muttered, “Not bad for someone who couldn’t figure out how to change his windshield wipers yesterday. Thanks.”

           Back at my desk, my mind raced through all sorts of possibilities. Now that I was beyond genius, I could learn any language, play any instrument, create music and art, and write literature. I could beat Watson on Jeopardy!, do quantum physics, produce unimagined inventions—and be rich and famous. Then it hit me.

           I’d never again enjoy a game of chess with anyone, let alone a passionate discussion about who’d win the Superbowl or MVP. Always knowing the best way to do something would result in a lifetime of frustration if I tried to interact with others. The one thing my intelligence couldn’t figure out, Evil Stepmother, was how to keep me from becoming a pariah.

           I understood the ultimate truth: Ignorance is bliss.

i.

They say we existed as stars before this,

pure atoms drifting within some abysmal mist

but as long as the cosmos and comets exist,

I will burn brighter for you.

ii.

Constellations were charted for us to connect

The history of us they had tried to perfect

But the bonds that we shared they could never dissect,

and I will glow brighter for you.

iii.

Telescopes were invented to watch us with envy

Shakespeare up in arms, he'll try and defend me

Poetry was transcribed to adore and commend thee

yet I will blaze brighter for you.

iv.

Science has shown that we grow so much farther

away from each other, but keep up your ardor

for though our embraces try to make us like martyrs,

I will spark brighter for you.

It always happened at night, which was 

'irritating'

'exhausting'

'embarrassing'

So I kept them to myself after a while.

I thought that I was dying, my

hypochondria and paranoia and

N-e-r-v-o-s-a, technical terms on Web M.D.

that only trickled down into my conclusion that

I would be dead by morning.

My heart was beating too fast, too hard

and my body ached like a 100-year-old man,

not like a scared adolescent girl who

couldn't control her breathing,

chest going up down up down

until it would finally flood with something and 

s t o p  

w o r k i n g.

I would apologize to the thin air for things that I had done that day, 

that week,

things I couldn't even control:

I could have beaten Atlas with the weight on my shoulders.

My possessions would have been divvied up equally amongst my family members, so

when they finally found my corpse laying in bed

they would have a clear cut way to take apart my room. 

I made sure my whimpering

wheezing

whining

and watery eyes

were quiet enough so that the rest of my house could sleep.

All of that worrying must have scared them to death.

“I won’t make it much longer,” he lamented in a crackling voice. He had been hiking on a mountain trail when he fell about one hundred feet, breaking his fall temporarily by a jutting sapling, ending up on a snowy mountain ledge.

Since it had been three weeks now and no one knew his hiking route, he realized he might never be found. He had already consumed his little store of food and only was able to get liquid from the melting snow.

Water was not a problem but he was a meat eater and realized he must get some protein before he starved. Looking downward at his lower leg, he talked to himself, “There is a lot of good muscle on my leg."

Desperate to survive until he could be found, he made a decision. He hesitated, for a moment, as he took out his knife to do what he knew was necessary in order to save his life.

Just a student sitting at a table. Just a harmless table in the lunchroom. No harm, right? Wrong.

Up rolls along a friend of the bully, and you've never met a bully like the bully.

A tormentor in the high school. Laughs at deformed kids and takes everyone's money. Acts like he's a star, the good guy, and everyone loves him. Manipulates the truth to his desire.

Because of his kind, the school is plain hateful.

The friend sits down and says, "Whoa, whoa, WHOA! You can't sit here, buddy. This is our table. Get off, you little shit."

The student says, "Why? It's just a table, there are plenty others out there."

The friends scoffs, rolls his eyes at her. He calls the bully, describes the predicament.

The bully then struts up to the table, all cool and hip. UGH! Acts like he gets chicks and that's just how it is. I'd rather hope he gets an STD with that whiny, 6-year-old voice of his.

The bully, vile, just annoys the student. Then, he says "Bruh, look at this dude." to his other 'pal'. Like he's the one that did the Flipagram roasts.

"I wouldn't go far," the friend says, "She's gonna go tell on us."

"Why? I didn't do anything wrong." He bon mot'd.

The friend did air quotes. "Bullying."

They all laughed and chuckled. The student was pissed. Then, they metamorphosed heinously from there.

They start to take videos of her, stating that "She stole our seats.", "Little fuckboi!!!, "Did you know your father fucked your mother?", "You're a mistake that should've been aborted!"

They uploaded them to Instagram, took Snapchats of her and put them on their stories.

Then, they start to laugh at her face and hair, like it's the 80's and they're the new millennium. However, she didn't mind.

Then, they jab her into capitulation. Everyone else just ridicules, cheers and uploads videos. Builds a moving wall around them; Trump would be proud.

She tries to slither away, but the bully says otherwise. He picks her up and rounds another onto his face. She falls down while the bully just laughs.

So the student gets up, his fists ready for some fun. The bully swings, he dodges. He plants a knocker onto his face and the former falls down.

The bully can't get up; he hasn't been working out. The student. however, found his happy place running all day.

The student then shook it off. Walked up to the head of the state. Tells her about the situation and everyone else.

The bully got arrested and expelled. Some people got also suspended for sharing and uploading videos and had a hard time with their parents. The rest were let off with a warning.

The student was glad that it was over. She went to run.

It helped her cool down.

One day you might be afraid to offend the tiger,

And watch your child succumb to its hunger

All that you have worked for sinks its fangs into your love

And you knew this whole time it could of happened

But you were too afraid to admit it, out loud

Hell opens up and you are the one ringing the bell.

Who was I then?

I was a typical

Loud mouth teen

I fought hypocritical

And caused many scenes

I was dark and miserable

Those clothes were the thing

Feelings were all physical

In love at eighteen

Who am I now?

I'm still wild inside

But I've grown up a bit

I'm hard work applied

With two beautiful kids

I'm a grown up implied

But that's about it

Life's a crazy ride

When you're barely twenty-six

Who will I be?

I'll still be a dreamer

With my head in the clouds

And though I'll be a senior

I'll still be able to get down

And when I face the reaper

I'll have done him proud

Because I'll still be a believer

All the way into the ground

Where will I Go?

I will hitch a ride on the breeze

Blow freely across the sky

You will smell me in the leaves

As the seasons pass on by

My heart will beat the seas

Pulsing waves and ocean sighs

I will spend days with the bees

And I'll sleep with butterflies

Life is like a journey on the way to nowhere

And I'm in no big hurry to get anywhere