Science Speaks Math

But I decided not to pursue such specialization. Not because I started to hate Math when I was in college and was taking up an education course. In fact, Math was the only subject that thrilled me to the extent that I got obsessed with word problems. It was just I did not want to see the girl who hurt me so much to the point that it kept me awake all night, that’s why I ran away from specializing mathematics. Following the track to be a Mathematician would mean seeing her, and I could not still face the truth that our relationship had already ended. It would be an everyday heartache.

With the students then started to become so fascinated with “hugot” lines (sarcastic phrases about person’s emotion) in the subject of love, our teacher in Contemporary Mathematics exploited such fad by using some of the concepts as analogies to the kinds of love relationships. One of those is the asymptotes. Lines that approach one another but never got the chance to meet. Or the tangential lines. Lines that meet once and never again.

During those times, I was so happy with the girl who was so special for me. She’s brilliant in Math. I never beat her when it comes to solving word problems. While we are squeezing every vein in our brain to obtain the final answer, she always finishes first and gets the answers correctly during quizzes. There were also times that I felt insecure about her because of her brilliance, but I never admitted that to her.

I never had the chance. Before I got the chance to tell that to her, we broke up.

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It was the last month of our first year in college when the smooth road of our happiness started to form its rough texture. It was then I began feeling her scraping aloofness. It hurt that she started to draw lines between us. Gradually, our nearness did not compensate enough to shorten the length of her becoming-distant feeling for me. Even when we were centimeters apart, I could sense that she was miles away.

There was one time that we fought, and I could not contain the loneliness I had, in front of her, tears ran down on my cheeks. I could not understand why even a small issue became a big deal for us. Until I knew the real reason why she tried to distance herself from me.

We were sitting while waiting for our next subject. Silent, and no one talked. She reached for her bag. She fetched something from it. A piece of paper. A white bond paper, the size of a one-eighth yellow pad, folded into four. She gave it to me.

My fingers trembled when I opened it. I felt a nauseous nervousness crawled throughout my body. I could not expound that feeling. A sensation that something big, revealing and pricking truth would smack me to my consciousness.

The words were typewritten. They possessed a classic and Shakespearean mood.

Things are becoming rougher for us. But always remember, you’re the only one whom my heart beats. I am so happy that in my stay here, I have you.03-21-2010Casey.

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I asked her what was that for. She did not answer. I did not insist her to explain. I never understood her reason for giving me that message. But I felt her warm touch on my heart when I read that. It was sweet yet mystical. We both stared at each other. I could see in her eyes a worry. I did not know what kind of worry was that. But I learned about it when she told me everything.

She told me that there was a big chance that she would go far to keep the ticket for her dreams, and she would leave me. She admitted that she was not sure if our relationship would work if we were both too far from each other. To keep us safe from the aches it would bring, she thought it would be best if we ended everything we built.

I didn’t accept her suggestion. I held on to my faith that everything would be okay. However, it didn’t go as I hoped for.

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As the semester nearing to its end, our relationship dove into a roller-coaster ride, but it went all the way down. No ups. Just down and went sideways. Until our scream for our happiness couldn’t be heard. No echoes reverberated. Even a tiny refraction of sound cannot be discerned in the closed, cold place of our hearts. We became mutes for our feelings. Then, she found the reason to stop the pen from moving as it wrote our story since our first day of our college, the moment that our respective space and time bumped into each other and dragging both of us into the inescapable black hole of love.

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I spent our summer vacation consoling my wandering, beaten emotion after the breakup. But seeing the image of her fresh smiles spread in her cottony cheeks in my memory, clear and lingering, handicapped me to move on to the life the I should be living that time without her. Teary nights and doleful days consumed my clockwork. I listened to the tik-tak of a chronometer, staring at nothing, thinking of her.

Then, a new school year had started. I thought I would not be seeing her anymore, but she was still there. I couldn’t stand the moment of staring at her. It broke my heart every time I saw her happy without me.

So, when we were about to choose our specialization, I chose Physical Science, not Mathematics. It was because I knew she would choose Mathematics. I picked the choice of seeing her minimally to silence the agony inside me.

For a month since the start of our second year, we were both existing in our own respective space without intervening on each other’s life dimension. I could not say that I was happy without her. Something, or someone, is lacking.

Inside me, there’s a vacuum needed to be filled, and that vacuum disabled some waves of my consciousness, creating so much difficulty for me to face the reality.

Then, destiny (or whatever triggered it) started to wave its magical wand. Everything began to be fixed. Wounds were healed by replenishing words and promises. Raging feelings were tamed by sweetness. Wandering emotions found the oasis of harmony, and the cold place in our hearts was turning warm, enabling our frozen hearts beat once more for each other.

Even though how much we tried to avoid each other, circumstances paved a way for us to cut the length of our distance. There were instances in our common subjects that we were in the same group. It was more than three times that happened to us. During those times, we talked to each other. We became friends, again. I already had the chance, once more, to witness her fresh, contagious smiles. I pretended not to stare at her when we were in a group. And of course, I sneaked a peek of her angelic face. One thing I can say was, “She’s so divine!”

That was the new beginning. A wet match started to spark after a lengthy time of friction.

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There was once a credence in our College which my instructors believed in. That Mathematics is the language of Science. If the two subjects would be personified by us (she’s the math; I’m the science), I believe on that too. For she has been my math, for almost eight years. She has been my language. She enables me to express who I am. She is my words. She’s the sound of every syllable in my mind. She’s the mic of my muted heart.