You haven’t texted me back in three days.
I do not care for the phrase “I think of you constantly”. It does not resonate with me. “Constantly” implies multiple iterations of thoughts. I start thinking of you; I stop. Start again, stop again, like Newton’s Cradle or something. That’s not really how my brain works, and to my greatest dismay, it never will be.
Quite frankly, there’s never any recess with you. Like a freshly plucked sixth grader scuttling through a bustling cafeteria, I wish there was recess. Or a frantic attorney scurrying to review newfound evidence in court, God I could really use some recess. But one day I began thinking of you and it just never went away. One long agonizing run, and Mooski be damned, I’m not a runner. I’m not even a track star, man.
When I was born and my mom decided to name me Yashfa, the doctor on shift warned her that the Y in my name would probably stand for y-intercept. Had she only heeded his warning, maybe I would’ve ended up a normal person. Instead I now find myself stuck in the unfortunate circumstance where f(x) = 2x+7, and I think of you like +7. Not “constantly”, but literally in constant. Always there, plopped on the tilt of my axis, pressed against the slope of my musings. Ongoing and never an end in sight. I hate you.
GETOUTGETOUTGETOUTGE
I have been told by many-a-people I have a flair for the dramatics. I don’t see it. I acknowledge that and have never once denied it. I am an unreliable narrator. I theatricalize everything to a fault, and it’s hard for me to differentiate when I’m being reasonable or batshit crazy. They’re the exact same disposition. An unsound mind is typically my resting state, so if I’m being honest, the extreme end of things don’t feel all that different. Clearly, I am perfectly right in the head.
Maybe it's true that people get bored of you when you love them too much.
A quote I saw a while back on Twitter that clung to me like a starfish. In some silly way, I find myself relating everything in my life through the lens of basic mathematics, and this quote is no different.
The way I see it, 1) the derivative of a function measures change, 2) a constant stays stagnant forever and ever, and 3) the derivative of a constant is nothing. So 1) when all of my feelings are derived from you and no one else, and 2) I give you everything, 3) you treat me like nothing. I give and I give and I give and I give, therefore I’m as good as zero. Clearly, that’s just a basic rule of differentiation.
f(x) = 99, so that must be why you hate me. f'(x) = 0, so you want me to die, right? The only logical explanation. If functions act like that, it’s no surprise that humans would follow suit. I could never blame you; mathematical patterns in nature are indubitable after all.
I’m being dramatic again. Please text me back.
Writer’s note: This disgusting-declaration-of-down-bad-edness was originally written in my Notes app, after three days no text back (clearly). I wanted to expand on this idea I had of liking someone “in constant” in parallel to mathematics, and to Substack I went! Since this was more of a diary entry than anything else, I wanted to preserve the unfiltered, humorous tone of me being dramatic, rather than turning this into a more serious piece. Hope I gotta chuckle out of you!
— yoshi