Matthew Pye shares insights with Subhashi Tania de Silva

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there is a strange science to you

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God the veins on your hands look like soft branching rivers I notice it without meaning to In the same way the brain notices danger before language arrives Automatic.  And I wonder if psychology has a name for this this quiet distortion of focus when beauty becomes data and data becomes feeling. Then your voice happens. You say my name. And something in my nervous system misbehaves. A glitch of chemistry dopamine maybe or something softer science hasn’t named properly yet Chills run through me like my body is trying to confirm that I am still inside myself Still here. It is almost funny In class I learn about attachment theory about reward pathways about how the brain builds meaning from repetition and attention But none of it explains why one person can feel like a signal that interrupts every system I built to stay balanced. So I sit there, diagnosed by my own attention That somehow you became both the subject and the experiment in the same breath I use to think about you. - Subh...
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My Type I Error

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We met because of a brain. Not ours, at first. A scan glowing blue-white on a monitor at 1:47 in the morning, while the rest of the university slept and two neuroscience students remained awake, arguing about whether a pattern was meaningful or merely noise. “You're seeing something that isn't there,” you said. I looked at the scan again. “I think you're just afraid I'm right.” You smiled. “That,” you said, “is statistically unlikely.” I smiled back. “Then prove me wrong.” I didn't know then that this would become the story of my life you asking me to prove you wrong, and me spending years finding reasons to stay. There was something dangerous about meeting someone in academia. You don't fall in love normally. You fall in love between deadlines. Between conference abstracts and half-finished manuscripts. Between the third cup of coffee and the moment your supervisor sends just one small revision at midnight. You fall in love. Almost scientifically. First, you le...
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that Saturday we became eternal Yes, I am that girl who loves the insane, dramatic kind of love the kind where feminine and masculine energies collide just by locking eyes. The clingy, “cringe-but-not-really” intimacy is my favourite where you can catch their scent simply by being near the things they used, especially their clothes… and you delay washing the places they touched because their presence still lives there. I love that look that moment when your eyes meet and you both laugh without saying a word, as if the joke travelled telepathically between two souls. And oh to make soup together on a random Saturday afternoon, your hands wrapped around me, sipping warmth and love at the same time that is the kind of intimacy I live for. -Subhashi Tania de Silva
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