The
professor is talking about forces
on
the chalkboard, but I am tired of hearing the same things,
deriving
the same formulas, over and over again.
Inertia
is the tendency for an object to keep moving
at
the same velocity unless acted upon
by an
outside force, he reminds us.
I
want to ask him what makes a person stay sad,
and
what outside force can stop the sadness,
but I
don’t raise my hand.
If
you choose a specific centripetal acceleration,
you
can essentially simulate gravity,
he
goes on enthusiastically.
I
want to ask him what kind of acceleration
can
make a depressed person feel weightless,
but I
don’t raise my hand.
I get
angrier and angrier the more I learn,
and
the more I learn the less I care,
and
the less I care the more I hate the people who do.
The
equations in my notes are insufferably smug.
“We
can’t explain the world to you,” they seem to be saying.
But
why not, you arrogant assholes? Why not?
I
used to wonder what matter is made of,
but
now I just wonder what’s the matter with me.
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