It was horrible what happened nine years ago on 9-11. People lost their lives and will always be remembered.
But what about me, I still exist. Somehow through this tragic event, I have been deleted from everyone’s mind. Erased. Eradicated. Brainwashed out of Man’s hard drive.
Nine, eleven…nine, eleven…nine, eleven
Anything missing?
What happened to “tenâ€!
I use to be a “somebodyâ€. The world revolved around me.
The Ten Commandments, “She’s a perfect tenâ€, “Hang tenâ€, “ten little indiansâ€â€¦for Christ’s sake the majority of Earth’s civilizations use a base-10 numbering system.
Now I feel invisible. A shadow. I know what Ashlee Simpson feels like at Thanksgiving, or Tito at Christmas. What have I done to deserve this? Am I not easily divisible? Do I not make multiplying a simple task? What the fuck more do you want from me?
I could understand if I was irrational or a transcendental number. They’re enigmas.
Who knows their purpose? I don’t.
I ran with that pack in college.
π, Φ the Golden Ratio, e the base of the Natural Log…they were all deadbeats out of they’re minds.
Ï€ was always tripping on acid and trying to convince me he was from outer space and that he helped everyone from the Egyptians build the pyramids to the Mayan temples. Give me a break.
The Golden Ratio was under the impression that he was the divine Renaissance number created by God himself. Φ was one self-righteous, ecclesiastical mother fucker.
The base of the Natural Log e seemed normal, until you started to talk about money. Compound this, compound that…he would get this diabolical look in his eye when you mentioned interest rates. He’d sell his mother’s lung if he could profit from it.
I’m a rational number. A whole number.
God damn you all!
It’s nine,
eleven!
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