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Why do I hate Chemistry?
I am sure you are here either because you are a chemistry hater- just like me, or a chemistry lover checking out what the hell is this about. Either way, I am sorry to have you disappointed because this story has nothing to do with chemistry. This is a love story. The story of my first crush, a witful description of that day I fell in love for the first time in my life. I know it's a bit rude to mix love with chemistry. But deep down, love is nothing but some chemicals playing with our body. Yeah! Let that sink in.
30 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 15, 2018
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June 21, 2024Dear Almighty God,
I hope this letter finds You in good health, I never believed Nietzsche who said You're dead, I know You exist, otherwise, I wouldn't have won that jackpot yesterday.
So. I, à humble mortal, write to You with a peculiar request. One that involves time travel, revenge, and a dash of chemistry. Okay, never mind the revenge, I know isn't Your style.
You see, back in my childhood, I suffered at the hands of a certain chemistry teacher, Burnwell, if I remember well. He had a penchant for torturing young minds with equations, periodic tables, occasional explosion, shits like these, You know... But it was his final exam that traumatized me for my entire life. It's as if I see myself, scribbling equations, my palms sweating like a beaker in a poorly ventilated lab. Burnwell circled like a vulture, his beady eyes bore into my soul, calculating my incompetence with ruthless precision.
And then , it happened - the moment that will haunt my dreams forever :
Question 7 - " Calculate the molar mass of unobtainium using the Schrödinger's cat method . "
The blood stopped pulsing in me, a chain reaction immobilized my cortex , leaving me as inert as a vegetable.. Burnwell's red pen descended upon my paper like a meteor of doom...He wrote " Did you even attend class, mortal ? "
The sky fell on me, causing me countless neural fractures.
So, dear God, I beseech You. Grant me a chance to answer that fateful exam. Let me travel back to that classroom, now I have that bloody answer. Now I know that, according to the method, you must place a single atom of unobtainium inside the box. If the atom decays, the poison is released, and we consider the cat to be both alive and dead until we open the box. Upon opening the box,if you find the cat pondering over existential dilemmas, the molar mass is precisely 42 g/mol. But if the cat has instead drafted a thesis on quantum entanglement, the molar mass is incalculable, as the unobtainium has transcended physical properties.
So, grant me this temporal escapade, dear God, and let me rewrite my chemical destiny, and emerge victorious. And if You happen to have a spare Tardis lying around, that would be most convenient .
With bubbling anticipation,
Me
PS - If you're busy, I understand. Just send me a sign, like that jackpot.
I hope this letter finds You in good health, I never believed Nietzsche who said You're dead, I know You exist, otherwise, I wouldn't have won that jackpot yesterday.
So. I, à humble mortal, write to You with a peculiar request. One that involves time travel, revenge, and a dash of chemistry. Okay, never mind the revenge, I know isn't Your style.
You see, back in my childhood, I suffered at the hands of a certain chemistry teacher, Burnwell, if I remember well. He had a penchant for torturing young minds with equations, periodic tables, occasional explosion, shits like these, You know... But it was his final exam that traumatized me for my entire life. It's as if I see myself, scribbling equations, my palms sweating like a beaker in a poorly ventilated lab. Burnwell circled like a vulture, his beady eyes bore into my soul, calculating my incompetence with ruthless precision.
And then , it happened - the moment that will haunt my dreams forever :
Question 7 - " Calculate the molar mass of unobtainium using the Schrödinger's cat method . "
The blood stopped pulsing in me, a chain reaction immobilized my cortex , leaving me as inert as a vegetable.. Burnwell's red pen descended upon my paper like a meteor of doom...He wrote " Did you even attend class, mortal ? "
The sky fell on me, causing me countless neural fractures.
So, dear God, I beseech You. Grant me a chance to answer that fateful exam. Let me travel back to that classroom, now I have that bloody answer. Now I know that, according to the method, you must place a single atom of unobtainium inside the box. If the atom decays, the poison is released, and we consider the cat to be both alive and dead until we open the box. Upon opening the box,if you find the cat pondering over existential dilemmas, the molar mass is precisely 42 g/mol. But if the cat has instead drafted a thesis on quantum entanglement, the molar mass is incalculable, as the unobtainium has transcended physical properties.
So, grant me this temporal escapade, dear God, and let me rewrite my chemical destiny, and emerge victorious. And if You happen to have a spare Tardis lying around, that would be most convenient .
With bubbling anticipation,
Me
PS - If you're busy, I understand. Just send me a sign, like that jackpot.
November 5, 2018
Enjoyable reading! Nice narration... Waiting for the next part...
One of the reason for I like the book is I too hate chemistry...
One of the reason for I like the book is I too hate chemistry...
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews