Little Letters

Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. 

I would keep refreshing that page until the magic letters that determined my self worth popped up on that screen.  I hated those letters. But still, I could not wait another minute to see which ones decided to make an appearance today. 

Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. 

There was no divine calculation that went into determining these letters. They were decided upon by the results of a few multiple choice questions that determined how good of a guesser I am, and a few short answer questions that determined how good of a bullshitter I am. 

Apparently I am neither a guesser nor a bullshitter. 

Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. 

These letters don't really represent much if you think about it. They signify how well you can take a test and how good of a teacher you have. They don't really mean anything beyond that. They don't tell of the brain that is hiding behind that skull. They don't tell of the extraneous skills that actually round out and make a person. And it didn't matter how much I tried to prepare for those questions, my brain never did understand those questions.

Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.

But the beings who devised this brilliant intelligence scale obviously care very little about who I actually am. They only care about the one sided me they see through a letter. Apparently all I am are some letters on a screen. 

Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Refre–

There they were. They finally decided to show their faces. There they sat relentlessly staring me down. They knew their presence made me sick, but they loved mocking me knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do. 

I can stare at that page for as long as I so please, but nothing will ever change. No matter if I spent one minute or one hour or one week staring at those letters; I would still end up clicking the little x at the top of the screen to see those letter flit away just like that. 

No matter how many times I refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh; those same little guys just sit there. And I am supposed to shrug my shoulders and click that little x forever to be forgotten about. 

Refresh. Still there. Still me, wrapped up in 5 inconsequential letters. 

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