Fallingforyou

Skip. Skip. Skip. The flashes of music passed through my earbuds as I pressed the skip button again and again. Too happy, next. Too slow and soft, next. Makes me want to cry, next. I couldn’t find a song to describe the way I felt. Especially after what I just did.

The next song faded in. The beat of my heart suddenly quickened as I recognized the song and my thoughts blanked as the lyrics consumed my mind and brought me back. 

What if I never told him? What if tomorrow, I wasn’t in a new country? What would he do? What would he say? 

I breathed. 

I slumped my head back into the plane chair and I closed my eyes to try and sleep it off. I drifted into the abyss of my mind and could feel sleep take over my thoughts. My arms drooped into my lap as my breath and chest slowed down. The music muffled into incoherent words and the drums followed with the beat of my heart. I wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. I did it for my own good.

Confessing was the first step to forgetting. All I needed to do was forget. Forget the way the corners of his mouth would curl into a smile to break our eye contact. Forget the tapping of his feet whenever he was nervous. Forget the flickering lights as his touch struck my skin and his arm sheltered me. Forget the late-night walks because he didn’t want me all alone.

“I like you.”

My eyes shot open. The reasons why I couldn’t forget flowed through the ocean of my mind and arrived at the rivers of my eyes. The lyrics of the song echoed in my head. 

Maybe you’ll change your mind.

I couldn’t forget.

Life Conjectures

I stared at the math equation on my laptop screen. The fluids from my eyes were practically evaporating because of how long I had been staring. I scratched my head and tilted my view as if a different angle would give me a different perspective on the problem, which it did, but not in the way I intended. It had been hours since I first started the race that was finishing this problem, and yet I felt as if I’d taken my first two steps of the course. No matter how hard I tried to understand, the solution wouldn’t appear in my head. I didn’t know how to solve the math problem.

I liked math because there had always been a solution to any problem that I’d been given. 2+3? 5. A number that when multiplied by itself gives you 49? 7. A number that when divided by 2 is 10? 20. 

When I was a kid, life was like math. I’m lonely and need a friend? Angelina. I’m bored and don’t have anything to do? Art and math. I’m hungry and want to eat? Macaroni and cheese. 

But as I grew up and math became more difficult, I found that some math problems don’t have a solution. The Riemann hypothesis? No idea. Collatz conjecture? I have no clue. Goldbach conjecture? Don’t even get me started.

Math wasn’t the only thing that didn’t have a solution to everything. So did my life. I hate the way I look and wish I could change my body? I don’t know. I feel like I never have time to enjoy my life? Not sure. I’m never proud of myself? That’s a tough one.

And this math equation only added to the list of problems that I didn’t know how to solve. So yes, I was crying. Over math. Over the fact that I couldn’t find the solution to anything. The tears dripped onto my paper as I re-evaluated my life. If I couldn’t solve a math equation, the subject that is my strongest suit, what could I solve?

I closed my eyes and let the thoughts flow. I replayed the steps to solve the equation over and over in my head. I re-examined my paper to try and find where I’d gone wrong. After hours of hair-pulling, snotty cries, and blank stares at my screen, I had finally chosen to give up and rest. I went to sleep and woke up hoping that the solution would come to me.

And it did. A week later. It took me a whole 168 hours to solve one math problem.

I eventually kept practicing the same topic over and over again. Each time I did another math equation, the time to solve each equation shortened. I learned to be patient with myself and understand that the solution doesn’t come immediately.

And that is how it is sometimes. Especially in life.

My problems aren’t simple math equations that can be solved in two steps. It will take me years to prove to myself that my body is perfect the way it is, that I can take a break sometimes to enjoy my life, and that I am enough. There is no 5-step routine or plug-and-chug formula to solve my problems. But there is proof of my life conjectures. There is truth.