Naive, I keep trying to solve for x, even though I have always believed that letters and numbers shouldn't mix, that unyielding numbers and soft doughy letters go together about as well as rocks and ice cream. The universe is run by mathematical constants, and I figure that brains and hearts have to work the same way too, somewhere. If I could only figure out what x equals, what the shape of the Higgs boson is that gives so much weight to the space between yourself and myself, I could figure out how to re-thread this projector and get this movie back on track. Science is so hard to understand because it always works the same way, even when we can't see it. And we ourselves are more variable than the most unpredictable of weather patterns.
Smashing all of these particles together just makes a mess. I looked for vintage luggage loudly and you looked for other people in secret, an equation with a negative solution. Math makes an unyielding metaphor for life, and one that I don't even completely understand.
I live in the soft spaces, because outside of more forgiving atmospheres the air is cold and the denizens short of breath. My lungs have much more room than this.
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