All I see is matrices.

I wake up and I don’t see a popcorn ceiling, I see a 1583 x 2329 matrix of little specs sprinkled above me.

I walk to the mirror and see not a face, but rather a 3 x 3 matrix bearing the shape of a smiley face.

I look at my shirtless torso and see a 3 x 2 matrix.

I continue to gaze downward and see not 2 balls, but a 1 x 2 matrix.

I struggle to open the bathroom door because I don’t see a handle. Only a 1 x 1 matrix.

I make my way to the dining hall where I eat matrices.

I go to linear algebra where I learn about matrices, but it just feels like social studies.

I go to club running practice as I run along what some may call a sidewalk, but I call a 34934 x 1 matrix.

I make my way home and analyze the day, but rather than normal human reflection, I simply recall the organization of the world into delicate patters of rows and columns.

As I write this post I bang my fingers into the (roughly) 14 x 5 matrix that a simpler being may call a keyboard.

Even the screen I view appears to me only as a 3840 x 2160 matrix of illuminated pixels.

As I try to fall asleep, I count sheep. They align into one large identity matrix, growing by 1 dimension for each passing moment.

I fall asleep with great difficulty, yet satisfied. The matrix lens of life is my burden to carry, but under the surface there seemingly exists an underlying bliss.

Best,

J | B | 0 | 0

B | U | S | H