In Another End of the World

2 minute read   ·   18/ Monsters + Factories
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Mother always said that nothing was impossible, just improbable. But the mathematics of love tell me that our equation reaches the nadir of probabilities, so much so that it may as well be impossible. It’s kind of like living a billion lives with a billion chances—that even at the end, nothing works, nothing jiggles. The keys don’t turn, and you and I are just not meant to work.

So, I went up to the mountain top to ask the gods of the earth and sky, “Why? Why is it that you create mathematics to deter hope from the hearts of people?” They responded by stating, “You must learn that happiness comes from suffering, that unless you have a point of comparison, you will not be able to differentiate the good from the bad.” But I was not satisfied: “I do not understand your reasoning. Suffering is pain, and I cannot imagine that you want your children to be pained?” But alas, the gods could not be bothered with a youth’s mistaken sense of wisdom. I was told to leave and not return until I had solved the equation of hope, one that I would soon realize was unsolvable.

As it turns out, the mathematics of hope and the mathematics of love are different creatures. While most equations are done with numbers and their derivatives, love is based on heartbeats and their rhythms. Hope, on the other hand, is ethereal, ever-moving, ever-effusing itself into the aura of tomorrow and yesterday. The statistical tendencies, therefore, of hope and love to reconcile themselves is low, and because of their different media of quantification, the probability of us ever finding love and hope at once is virtually nil.

Time says, “I’ll be with you for eternity as you search, but know that it is a matter of chance that love and hope will collide at your feet.” At least Time is honest, and Space tells me that he too will give me room to maneuver as I continue to seek this truth. But I am unkind. I look at Time and Space without reproach and speak upon their beings, “Thank you but this world is not for me. The ghosts at the door have agreed to let me seek what I want in a world beyond ours, where you two are not present, where I will lose myself in myself and become one with hope and love. Then, and only then, I will come back upon this earth and seek out those who believe in what I once searched for so eagerly.” With that, I crossed the threshold of humanity into the realm of senses and imagination.