Day Two hundred and thirty two - Everything is wrong

I don't understand numbers. My mind can't process them - never could. I managed the first few years of school by the skin of my teeth, and then when letters and other strange symbols got thrown into, pun intended, the equation - I completely lost it. My mother paid for a private tutor - but I could never understand what she tried to explain. I couldn't wrap my head around what were probably the simplest of concepts.

But God do I wish I could have gotten numbers, I really do. I would have loved to understand Chaos theory and the notion of attractors, especially those of the strange variety. I would have loved to have looked at my copy of 'The Elements of Euclid' and understood the geometry therein, and not seen just lines that make close to no sense to me. I can't though, and it's not like I'm such a huge understander of words either. Oh, I like them all right, and sometimes I think I do clever things with them.

Case in point, back when I had patience and time and will to be in social media constantly, sometimes I'd post what I thought was a witty turn of phrase along the lines of : 'The strange dichotomy of regretting so very little, yet feeling sorry for so very much'. And usually there would always be a pretty girl liking or commenting or messaging me, and this always made me feel rather erudite. Though of course I wasn't, it was just a trite thought - though in my heart of hearts I really did think it. 

Chaos theory, yeah? The whole butterfly effect thing? Bloody hell, how could I have believed I regretted so very little? I shouldn't have returned to social media. I don't even know why I did - I can't think of one single valid reason for it. It wasn't even as if I was bored or needed something else to waste my time. I could've picked up another project altogether instead of telling the story of my life - shit, I could've written every day about a different album I love, though I'm pretty sure a number of bands would be getting multiple entries. I could have done it all so much differently. Because if I had I wouldn't have caused pain or grief or invited havoc into the lives of others. That is what I regret : that my actions would come to cause said grief, even if inadvertently so. 

That I do regret. I ought to have known better. I should've thought well ahead. But I chose to flap my wings and the system was disturbed. But there is much that I do not regret about all this. That I never will regret. It's given me a newfound impetus for myself. There were things I had thought lost in a fire of old, but those embers yield promise. I am rising. By God, I am rising.