I found this year-old post sitting in my drafts (with some edits from current-me), and it’s amazing how it really sums up how I feel nowadays. Past-me understands current-me more than thoughtcatalog. Also, this means what I’ve feared a year ago seems to be slowly solidifying and becoming a reality.
I’ve always wondered how i could love someone so grounded in reality, so adamant that only our perceptions of reality are valid. Granted, you expound on wormholes and alternate universes but they are all backed up by scientific documentaries you’ve watched. Everything is grounded in science. Even our love is grounded in science, in the transmission of electrical impulses. I don’t think you understand why I was sad when you claimed that all human emotion can be reduced down to neurons.
Words are my thing and math is yours but love is ours. I pour mine out in letters and diary entries while you express yours in fractions and infinities. We fumble along our incompatible ways of loving, trying to accommodate each other, trying to not lose ourselves among this amalgamation of languages. Our expressions may be variables that we find hard to solve but our love has always been the constant. And I am thankful that among the complex metaphors and long prose that I attempt to capture our love in, I will never succeed. We will never succeed. Because our love cannot be contained, cannot be expressed in fractions and quantified, cannot be known and expressed by an ocean of words, by all the versions of dictionaries. We exist in this continuum we have built between us, floating, struggling, together.
Despite that we will keep trying.
Ironically the day that we stop trying will be the day that our continuum breaks down. I don’t know about you. But I will fall. Hard. Through my woven web of words and phrases, I will fall. I will grasp at every past prose, verse and line written about you, and wonder if we managed to reconcile my words and your numbers, we would have made our continuum a new reality.