She and I

oscillate between minima and maxima constantly. At times she is at her saddest, crying and confused about who she is and what she should do. So, I approach my highest point, and if I can't answer all of her questions at least I can be strong while she deals with them. Then, like any

unstable equilibrium, we begin down the negative

slope, and come to the

abscissa, where we are both content and happy for some

infinitesimal differential of time. Moving on I eventually fall into the inevitable

trough with its lowest point of detached self-destruction. From there I can see her at her most stable, providing what she can for me and hoping I don't exceed my

parameters.

This oscillation is continuous, even though at times it seems almost as though it could be stochastic in its variation. Some times our pattern of feelings is almost predictable, like a pure *y = sin(x)*. Other times it swings rapidly from maximum to minimum and back in a matter of hours, *y = sin(100x)*, a high enough frequency to confuse any observer. Then, unexpectedly, we'll have a period almost like an extended x intercept, our mutual drama neither burning nor edifying either of us violently, *y = (1/16)sin(x)* embodied. The cycle never breaks down, though, we somehow manage to avoid the brutally selfish *y = x*^{2} and the apathetic resignation of *y = e*^{-x}.

Perhaps instead of being one sine wave, one of us is sine and the other negative sine. In that idiom, our relationship is the function of us added together, which is the ultimately stable perfectly flat line: *y = -sin(x) + sin(x) = 0*, all delineated in the numbers. Seeing it that way makes me worry that one of us may be fractionally different from the other, set by some vengeful mathematician at *.9998sin(x)*, so we are just waiting to get far enough out of synch that the system collapses on its own....