Try being the x = 0 to someone’s f(x) = 1/x

Parade (Matchbox Twenty)


I never really liked Math.

Actually, every time someone talks about Math, I only doze off wondering how the hell I passed grade school and high school Math—especially College Algebra way back in senior high (I mean, it’s College Algebra; yes, I was a senior but still very much in high school, uh, duh).

In fact, when I actually went to college, I took a course that barely required Math, I majored in Communication and when I saw my program guide, I nearly fist pumped in joy knowing that in the next four years, I was only going to take up Math twice. Really, that’s one big relief.

But talking to a friend just recently made realize me that maybe, I underestimated Math—you know, kids these days: how do I actually use  “x + 1 = 3, then x = 2” in real life?


Then, upon thinking (and whole lots of catching up to do with Calculus), I guess, x and y could be black and white.

I believe it makes sense that Math, unlike Science or any other subject, has a way of telling us which is wrong and which is right—and that you have a way to check if the answer fits. If people really knew how to use Math in real life, questions would be answered in simpler, less complicated ways.


Years of avoiding Math and years of getting the wrong answer to the “what is x” question, I actually like the fact that x always has a value and upon facing the question, you know the categories that these values fall under. I like how clear and defined Math is (but I came to the conclusion that I actually am a very complicated person because I actually hate Math, and I do love Science).

But best of all, I like that 1 plus 2 is—always—equals to 3.

That no matter how much we convince ourselves that we can get 3 by adding a number to 1 that clearly isn’t 2, it’s never gonna come out right because it’s not how it works.

So much similar to that of people’s truths.

No matter how much we deny it, no matter how much we try to convince ourselves that the truth does not exist, it will always be there—because that’s just how it is, simple as we see actually see it.

Just like fictional stories, equations have beginnings, middles, and endings; but unlike fictional stories, equations are fixed and logical—and though you can go about it in different ways, the answer should always be same.

But people could be complicated at times. People could be given a right triangle with all its sides defined and all one has to figure out is the hypotenuse. And instead of using the Pythagorean Theorem (like the way it should be), some people would try different ways to solve the problem. Some would use differentials, or Euclid’s proof; worse, some would use the trapezoid proof when the problem clearly is a triangle.

The moment we finally figured that that a^2 + b^2 = c^2, we ignore it and write down unicorn instead.

So much similar to that of people’s truths.

We could see things right in front of us and still jump to the wrong conclusions.


Browsing through random mathematical equations, I realized that Math could be heartbreaking (well, it is heartbreaking for people who are bad at it like me); but seriously, there’s something heartbreaking about Math.

Take f(x) = 1/x as an example.

Imagine being the x = 0 to someone’s f(x) = 1/x.

I know I don’t make sense but being the x = 0 to someone’s f(x) = 1/x equation is pretty much impossible because f(x) = 1/x will never reach zero; no matter what you do, you will never be part of that line.

It’s pretty much similar to that feeling of not belonging, of non-existent chances of becoming part of something; like dreams that never will come true.

So much for the saying nothing is impossible, try being the x = 0 to someone’s f(x) = 1/x.


Now this is the part I’d actually remember reading about tangent linesthe lines that only meet at one point and then never meet again.

So much like some people in our lives.

Find the equation of the tangent line to the graph of f(x) = √(x2+3) at the point (-1, 2).

The answer to that is x + 2y = 3.

Perhaps, you are f(x) = √(x2+3) and x + 2y = 3 is love; then who is your (-1, 2). Who is your (-1 , 2) that makes you and love meet—even just for once, even just for a moment?

Who is your (-1, 2) point—the only point that those two things will ever meet?

If you ever have an answer to this question; if you have a (-1, 2) point that makes f(x) = √(x2+3) and x + 2y = 3 meet, remember this: don’t let it go and if you haven’t found it, don’t stop searching until you do.

I have ran out of mathematical metaphors and I cannot any more reduce this thing to fractions but something about love brings out the best in each of us the way functions and equations never could.

And there’s something really beautiful about that.

Parade (Matchbox Twenty)



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