Math: Word Problems edition.

by MB


I've never been good at math. I do not derive pleasure from its objectivity, nor am I comforted by the logic its theories adhere to. Numbers do not allow room for subjectivity or empathy. They cannot bring to life the intricacies of an individual moment, parsed out only by a collection words and ink on paper or fabric.

There is (of course) a caveat. I have defined myself by numbers, ruled and tapered my life around them, for the better half of the time I have been alive.

The number on the scale used to define me. Today, I give the power of language back to what I know and trust - I reqlinquish myself to the subjectivity of words.

This pledge is terrifying - it makes me vulnerable to the endless abyss of unknown. The scale was easy - high was failure, low was success. All of my worth, my energy, and my livelihood revolved around the simplicity of one single number. Three digits had the power to shape my emotions, my aspirations, and chart the course of my life.

Lacking a numerical sheild, my feelings are forced at once to reveal themselves to the elements, exposed, bare, whiplashed and burnt by the hissing, dry air.