Friday, November 23, 2012


Picture taken from, courtesy of The Internet, as usual. It depicts algebra homework, though thankfully not my own.
Written around the beginning of October for my Creative Writing class prompt,  "second person." The idea had been rolling around in my head for several weeks beforehand, inspired very much by some of the works over at livejournal's anthropomor-fic, though I actually haven't gotten around to joining that community, never mind posting in it.

It's actually part of a series of three personifications, all having to do with the maths and sciences. Whether I post the other two or not depends on my mood.

A happy Black Friday to all, and I hope this proves that though we may not like certain school subjects as much as others, we must still be thankful for the inspiration that they can give.


They're trying to get you alone, completely abandoned and so much more vulnerable for it. Terrified, you cling to your coefficients and hide behind the line of numbers separating you from those on the other side of the equal sign, praying that they will decide to abandon the task of deciphering you and leave you be.

The prayer is not granted.

The constant is the first to leave. She disappears quietly; there one moment, gone the next, softly and suddenly vanishing away. If you squint you can see her in the distance, on the other side of the equation—dark and unnatural, the opposite of her former self, fading into the mesh of misplaced, perpetually combining numbers.

You shudder at the thought of it.

But then all pity for her is gone, replaced by the sheer horror and rage at the hellish agony ripping you apart. Fire. Ice. Pain—lashing across your back. Water blocking off your throat as you begin to drown, air rushing in so fast and furious that it blasts you apart—you can barely think, barely breathe. And you don't know what's happening until it's over.

The multiplier, your protector, your defender, the last barrier between them and you, has gone, pried away by heartless hands who only care about finding the right answer. It's you they want—you, the enigma, the ultimate puzzle, the variable. You, helpless, stripped bare for the world to see, all the deepest, darkest secrets of your identity revealed after being shrouded in mystery for as long as you can remember.

4x + 9 = 2(15) + 7

Finding yourself. Each way you try to put it, it ends up sounding far less terrifying than it is.

4x + 9 = 30 + 7 = 37
-9                    -9

No, please, no, just leave me alone—

4x = 28

Variables aren't supposed to be solved. Deep down, you know this—it's an emotion from the core of your being. It goes against your very nature. Since the beginning of eternity, your greatest fear has always been of others knowing who you truly are.

x = 7.

You scream inside.

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