I love Math. There I said it. It’s a one-sided, unrequited kind of love but it is what it is. The kind where you fall and you fall hard and there is no saving you from heartbreak as he pulls you into his embrace and showers you with love and attention one minute and the next, he pushes you away and rejects you as you yearn with longing for one look or one glimpse of his brilliance. The intoxicating kind that blinds you to everything save his perfection. The kind that makes you want to accept every complexity, every incomprehensible part of his mind that you cannot fathom, and that you cannot reach.
My mind is feverish. It’s a problem solver and it sees my love as a problem that needs to be solved and assigns every bit of resource into cracking it. I have sleepless nights as I lay awake dreaming about him. He is the subject of my dreams and the stuff my nightmares are made of. He is the source of all my pain and all my joy and how long have I even known him to feel this way already? What can I say about Math but that he’s like a temperamental teenager that toys with my feelings and leaves me either in tears or exhilarated and jubilant over whatever small victory over himself he’s allowed me to feel.
Do I wait it out and hope that he notices my existence? Or do I pursue him like I’ve never chased someone before in my life? Or do I just give up on the impossibility of my situation as this unconditional love I feel for him will probably never be returned with the same intensity.
Sometimes I even wonder, even though I feel like I cannot doubt his intentions but is he leading me on? Leading me into believing that he cares? That he gives a damn about how I feel only so he can have bragging rights in front of anyone who sees how head-over-heels in love with him I am? What does he want? He isn’t as simple as he makes himself seem. He is complex and irrational, and yet, he is the epitome of perfection. I sleep and breathe his very existence.