Hello, my beautiful readers. I hope your summer, even with climate change showing up uninvited, still hands you those tiny, unexpected moments of calm. I hope you catch more of them, and hold on a little longer each time.
I sat in a college interview, but even before it began, it felt like I had already rejected myself. My brain really likes spoilers, I watch films only for the cinematography; any thought-provoking depth is just a byproduct. I often read everything about the film beforehand, spoiling it for myself, as if I need to acclimate to the outcome. Yes, I’m a pathetic loser—boooo me! But maybe this habit of chasing spoilers applies to my life too.
An acquaintance and I started talking about life, how different philosophies have different views on happiness. On some days, I find myself predicting the answers, as if it's the same every time BECAUSE it is the same. When we feel things deeply, even though we already know them, words like “Hey, everything’s going to be okay” still make it a little better. As if uncertainty is hidden within certainty.
After quite evident failures, I’ve finally decided to go for a change, but what awaits is the uncertainty of the future. This newsletter isn’t going to be about answers. It’s going to be about the questions I find myself asking.
If I could stop my brain, at least some of the positive combinations I’ve imagined might actually have a chance of coming true.
Uncertainty is beautiful for those who come to terms with it. And then there are people like me. We know how important it is to embrace uncertainty, yet our brains prefer to stay tired, overanalyzing those combinations, instead of being trained to try uncertainty.
When we start something we feel certain about, we’re filled with enthusiasm, positivity, and confidence. But with every failure, those combinations - enthusiasm × positivity, positivity × confidence start to approach zero. And when the negativity you've accumulated with each setback begins to outweigh the positivity you’ve managed to hold onto, it feels like you're left with nothing, you might just end up at zero.
As… When r is greater than n, the answer is zero.
But the fun fact is, I’ve always been bad at permutations and combinations. It was the worst chapter, and probably the reason I lost interest in maths. So who am I to make permutations and combinations, when I’ll always miscalculate?
Thank you for reading 🌻
Love the ending 💛💛