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If It's Not Explainable, It's Not Logical.
How is it that in a matter of two seconds, you have me completely speechless? How is it that you have quick-witted responses on the top of your tongue for any moment’s notice? And more importantly, how is it that all it takes for me to forget my name is a single look from you in my direction?
It’s not logical, the feeling. It’s not numerically explainable, scientifically provable or even historically predictable. No work in literature seems to correctly describe it, and no combination of musical notes can come close to portraying it. This makes me angry. Or more or less, it makes me confused. And I don’t like to be confused; to be thrown into situations where there are no rules or where I have not even the tiniest idea of what I’m doing. I don’t like it; this feeling. I call it the “ehh….” feeling. And I don’t like it. But I do like you.
I like you. I don’t know what that means or even what it’s supposed to mean when other people ask me about it, but I know that I do. I enjoy your company; your comfortable presence and easy voice. I like that you’re one of the only people that’s ever come close to being smarter than me. I like how when we’re talking about math and I become completely engrossed in and excited about a problem, I can see my own excitement mirrored in your face; on your beautiful, kind, smiling, handsome, face. I love that face.
In general, I think a lot about things; about all kinds of things really. My math teacher even told me once that I overthink things so much that sometimes I completely miss the simplest details. So when I think of you, I try to not make the same mistakes. I try to memorize you laugh like I would a song. I try to replay every word you say, both the words you say to me and the words you say to others, over in my head. My head is the place where I think of you the most; where I come up with my theories about why you do things the way you do. These theories are just like the ones in math.
“If ‘a’ squared plus ‘b’ squared is equal to ‘c’ squared, then ‘a’ and ‘b’ are less than ‘c’.”
“If he is twiddling his thumbs, then he is only barely listening to what I am saying.”
“A parallelogram is a rhombus if and only if its diagonals are perpendicular.”
“He is silent if and only if something has upset him deeply.”
Like this, I would go on and on about you. I would think and ponder and dissect and analyze; all of my favorite things to do. You were like my own personal math problem; nearly impossible to solve but so complex that you can’t but help keep trying to find answers. Maybe that’s why I like you so much. Maybe it’s because you were something that I didn’t’ understand. Like I said, I think too much.
Sometimes I wonder about what it would be like to be thought about the way I think of you. I wonder if I just want anybody to thing about me for the sake of being thought about, or if I only want you to think of me. This is another thing that I can’t explain, yet another thing related to you that’s confusing. It’s like in geometry, where you have to twist around postulates to fit your scenario and then writing another proof as to why the result came about. I never liked geometry. But here I am making my own theories about you and still thinking too much. It’s not just anyone that I want to think about me. If someone as amazing as you could think it was worth time to waste on me, then maybe I’m actually likeable. For once I’d like to be like the girls in the movies. I’d like to be in the in the scene where the boy comes up and says he secretly loves that weird habit that the girl has. Yes, I’d like that. I think you like me though. But I wish I knew if this were true, like I know the postulates in geometry will always be true. I wish I knew that you really liked me, because I know that you don’t hate me. But then again, I was never very good at geometry. I wish I knew about you for sure, like I know 2+2 = 4.
You once told me that I blush a lot. I remember that day so clearly in my head; it was one of the only day’s you mentioned my appearance. You were wearing a long sleeved grey t-shirt and dark jeans. It had been a good day; we were all laughing quite a bit so I had turned deep crimson as was expected. I remember how I was sitting in an armchair in the library during lunch when you came and eased down into the seat beside me. I looked up at you and we exchanged brief smiles and pleasant words. We both soon lapsed into silence though. I knew you had brought work to finish. And after a brief time of exactly 15 minutes and 38 seconds, you said the words that made my day.
“You know, you blush a lot. And it’s nice today ‘cause you’re wearing white and you’re face looks pink.”
Both the simplicity and utter honesty of your words hit me at that moment. I was left speechless. All I could do was simply laugh one of those carefree happy laughs that are so full of joy, and turn a 25% deeper shade of red.
I don’t how to tell you what it that I want to tell you. That’s why I’ve written this letter to you. And even in here I don’t think I’ve explained myself well. Even my proof of Ptolemy’s theorem was more organized and understandable. But you were always so much smarter than me. You never overthink things. You don’t miss the most important details. I can only hope that you’ll understand what I’m trying to say in the way I’m trying to say it.
I take solace in the equations and concepts of math. Numbers aren’t changing. They are understandable and explainable and known. Logic is sensible and functional. I am incomprehensible. But you? You are simply magical.