A poem by Scooter Milne

I didn’t start out with a whole lot of feelings about numbers, in general. I liked numbers and letters, though I was easily much more fond of the latter. Numbers were fine. 

They were fine, that is, until my grade hit the number five, and I was told to treat letters like numbers, using number rules. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t like it. I never could embrace it, even when I did eventually start to figure some of it out. I still wished the numbers had stayed separate from the letters. 

Recently, I was given a brand new health diagnosis. It’s a diagnosis of numbers, and once other numbers surrounding it have been discovered, it will mean even more numbers in my future. I don’t have a choice anymore. I have to care about the numbers, whether I want to or not. Some of the numbers will be my enemy, and others will be sought after. Again, I’m thrust into a world where I don’t want to deal with the numbers anymore. 

This isn’t a battle I’m remotely interested in fighting, but I haven’t been given the choice of opting out. I’m not sure what all of the rules are this time. The numbers dictate the skirmishes, but the only things in my personal arsenal are letters and words. They refuse to engage with these numbers. Math symbols versus punctuation, equations versus grammar, figures versus words. Cold hard facts versus the flow of emotion.

Scooter is a first-year student at LCC. She is pursuing an AAOT, and hopes to transfer and work on a BA in writing in the future. In her spare time, she likes to work on fanfiction, and study animation for fun. She is the current President of LCC’s GSA as well as a peer writing tutor.

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