A fictional phone conversation…
Blue: I wonder if you come across me on the pages of an old book, as I do. You are such an old chapter that even the memories have become sparse, but suddenly, in an aberrant note in the corner of a notebook, or an old pressed rose, you come back to haunt me. Will the way it punches me in my gut, ever get any weak?
Brown: I don’t need books. I am still confused, every person I like resembles you. I don’t even think I like them for who they are, just because they remind me of you. I have stuck myself in a self-destructive loop, and I don’t understand how I will ever forget you when my mind keeps finding more and more ways to confine me to you.
Here I am living you out day in and out and you are complaining of some dust I left behind! Some dust that inconvenienced you!
Blue: It was always that with us, wasn’t it? My feelings came in bursts, and I thought you were placid, unfeeling – only you were probably on an even curve throughout. I was always the one who loved more and –
Brown (interrupting ): No, you were merely the one who loved more intensely. ‘Intense’ and ‘more’ aren’t always the same. Aren’t you the mathematics geek? What do you think amounts to more – high peaks and low troughs, or a curve that always plateaus on the positive side?
Blue: Come on, how can you possibly bind feelings into algorithms and equations?
Brown: You really have changed, haven’t you! Don’t you remember one of the last things you told me? That we are not working out as ‘we’, the ‘equation’ is perverted, imbalanced, toppling? And suddenly now love isn’t mathematical? Why, is it because it no longer suits your explanations?
The pen had trailed off at this point, perhaps I was sleepy/sad/bored or maybe having a writer’s block. I never got back there. And I deserted Blue and Brown with an unfinished conversation, like most people who were once close and are now strangers.