she understands the definition of identity: an equality that evaluates as true within a given range of validity, regardless of the circumstances nor values chosen for its variables. a proof, on the other hand, is an unambiguous argument equating to a univocal conclusion; a series of assumptions stitched together by the infallibility of logic. the absolute sense of closure within mathematics is something she admires, how the meticulously arranged array of domino is predestined to collapse to a result that aligns precisely with her expectations.
she once wished to borrow this sentiment of certainty and apply it upon her own reality, in order for the events and outcomes in her life to allineate in some calculable way. she once strived to prove herself into existence, as elegantly as she would scribble out the words quod erat demonstrandum. when she stares into the draft pages before her; the map of orderly propositions and abstract symbols simply gaze back.
does there exists a duality of worlds? she closes her eyes and ponders. one that divides everything up into categories of precision, and another one where borders vaguely blend into each other like paint splatters across a canvas. a world responsible for the building of pipelines and bridges and another as the birthplace of violins and roses. a world for calculus and another for sonnets. a world governed by practicality and another sculpted by imagination. she teeters at the border of the two worlds, wondering how she has found herself upon the territory of the one instead of the other.
yet at the intersection between the two realms she discovers the capacity for possibility. opening her eyes again, she is reminded of the infinitude within the process of becoming. perhaps she was never meant to be defined as a constant, but more precisely characterized as a work in progress: an accumulation of every baby step she has ever taken; a myriad of draft papers scrambled up at nightfall to only be rewritten upon at sunrise. perhaps she is best defined as one that is constantly evolving, perpetually shifting – metamorphosing a multitude of times to converge towards who she is meant to be.