The inspiration arose quite suddenly. As I was tempted to drink rays of sunshine, I remembered that they always exploited my spirit with happiness, illuminating the darkest corners of my inevitable imagination, and released giggles, along with the possibility of truth slipping off my tongue. Alas, through occurring distractions, my thought process began developing something seemingly more important than the tangy flavor of sun. I tried ever so desperately to focus on the decimal points and square roots of reality, but the tentacles of my mind kept on reaching into the past and finding new and new sensations to grasp. Grasp and release, grasp and release. It was an ongoing process, a search for something I could not control, possibly because all the numbers and symbols were repelling and seemed threatening to my existence, which could be easily defined by a careless sense of altruism, or lack thereof.
It, being my existence, contained several purposes clearly known to me. One was the spreading of constant emotions, which pump through my veins in forms of massive variety, by speaking with everything from the language of a ballpoint pen to the nervous shivering I face before confronting one unhappy with my previous actions. Two usually involves proving myself either right or wrong for the purpose of gaining interest, convenience or affection from my acquaintances and loved ones. And three, was my desperate attempt to steer clear of slipping off the rigid edge of my morality. These were the weak centers of my subconscious purpose. Again, I lost track of concentration.
The board is covered in scribbles of uneven handwriting. Covered in infinite numbers that have no place or reason for existence in my already distracted brain. I turn them into dinosaurs and they battle each other without mercy, or angels, with golden wings and halos that flutter all over the room covering it in peace. Eventually, my sleepiness makes it impossible for me to try concentrating on the inequalities all together. I think of cuddling into the arms of my favorite person and drifting to sleep. Or of cashmere blankets and mugs of bubbly hot chocolate topped with foamy whipped cream. Or coffee. I crave caffeine in times like these.
And then I hear my name and pretend to be aware of the intellectual atmosphere of the classroom. They want an example because they caught me zoning. Crap. I scribble an equation I learned years before onto the sheet of paper in front of me. This equation is different from most. It has something behind it. It’s expressive and brings me happiness. I smile as my pencil scratches it onto the empty paper later to be transferred onto the whiteboard in sweetly scented dry erase marker ink.
9x-7i >3(3x-7u)

9x-7i>9x-21u
-9x
-9x

-7i > -21u
-7
-7

i <3u

I finished writing and looked up just as the sunshine entered through the window. I drank every single drop of it and exploded into laughter. What’s math?