Trial and Error

Chemistry taught me that, the learning method; do something and fail, try anything to know. I think I did well. Like, I was a good student; got an A and all, did a Masters and all, found a job and all. The works. Mistakes made sense. Acid on my skin burns; too much force, and I’ll drink through the pipette. Shake that flask long and hard, but let that sulphate drip down, slowly, to find a ring. It went unquestioned; like, it was accepted, it was understood. I didn’t beat myself for not knowing sodium should not meet water; neither was I upset for not naturally understanding how a titration came about. I learnt. I told my stupid little heart that it was ok. That I will learn the tricks of the trade in no time; that in less than an hour, I will have mastered the art of incineration in a ceramic crucible. But what I didn’t tell my stupid little heart was that life and love worked in similar ways. That it was ok to not know how to love; that it was ok to learn anew the ways of making someone feel special; that it was ok to stumble, to fall. That it was not ok to punish myself for not having the tool kit; for not knowing how the narrow path led to another’s soul; for not being equipped with the language of love. For all this will come with time, by seeing how my peers do it, by learning from the masters; through acid burns and crushed glass, through a naked heart and a broken spirit. But most importantly, these will come from you, with you. These will come because of the fresh air that we’ll breathe of each other, these will come with the fingertips that touch to heal, and these will come because our hearts won’t tire from teaching one another. So, really, this is just me, trial-ing and error-ing, but learning.