About The Blogger

Ruben is a frustrated poet, novelist, essayist.

Actually, there's nothing different about him. Nothing fascinating.  Nothing interesting. Nothing worth looking at. He has stupid eyes. His jokes are desperate and complicated that nobody laughs at them. He talks like a moron. He can't say one thing that will make the people like him. He babbles and sputters like a broken drinking fountain. His grades, average. His  interests, stupid. He’s sneaky and gets caught. He’s snobby and faking it. He agrees with liars. He says whatnot and thinks that's some clever thing. He has to be watched when he cooks so he doesn't burn it down. He’s not romantic. A half-wit. Only stupid people would think that he’s smart. He’s a lunatic wandering around for scraps. He’s like every single miserable moron, scorned, pretending not to be recognized. He’s all of them. Every last ugly thing in a bad last-minute costume. He’s not different, not at all, not different from any other speck of a thing. He’s a blemished blemish, a ruined ruin, a stained wreck so failed that he can't see what he was  used to be. He’s nothing. Not a single thing. The only particle. Believe me. I’m lying.