I don’t exactly know when it happened, and I’m not sure why either. But I became hooked, unable to forget or live without. Everyday I craved a new one, and would not be happy without it. There were so many possibilities, my imagination would run wild and by the time it was done, I remained in a state of ecstasy; the wonders of the universe, the mystifications of existence, and the depths of my creativity were lucid concepts for a few moments, and then it would fade away. I think it might be where I got my self-confidence from as well.
Sometimes, despite my extreme social nature, I would hide away with it until I was satisfied, then I would join the rest of the world and involve myself with others who had no idea what was going on in my head. It was somewhat taboo when I was younger, so my addictive activities were kept secret from my peers. It was not easy to hide it in school either; too much enthusiasm about the concept would raise eyebrows and send me out of the class. But that certain class was the only instance of enjoyment I experienced in class…apart from the cat hair and honey that was about to stick to the teacher’s chador in another class of course.
As I grow older, it becomes more difficult to hide my addiction, so I have decided to come out of the attic and confess. Life would be more liberating and my addiction would not have to hide itself under my desk anymore. Mathematics, I am in love with you. I want the world to know, I cannot live without a math problem each day. I crave a good solid proof as I type, and I can’t wait to re-read my History of Pi book. I’d rather read incoherent essays by Euclid, than go out looking for a shoohar. Screw it, I’m applying to grad school, I want to finish being a Mathematician…think of the hours I will be spending with Rolle and Euler…Bliss.
