Rust

Rust. Just a simple chemical process, right? But why is a self-proclaimed literature lover talking about science? Well, if we can talk to machines these days, why not draw parallels between science and life?

I once heard that nothing in this world is permanent, not the plant on my balcony that I carefully nurture, nor the goldfish I’ve lovingly cared for. Everything eventually fades, leaves, or dies. But then I wonder, why haven’t feelings disappeared too? Perhaps they’re held together by an external force I have yet to comprehend. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t hold on to the people I cherished. I tried wielding a power I didn’t understand, and perhaps that was my mistake.

I called this piece Rusting because, in my view, feelings behave much like rust. When iron meets moisture, it corrodes, losing its original form. But some metals, like aluminium, develop rust that serves a purpose. Similarly, we are like those metals. For some, emotional rust strengthens them, transforming them into something better. For others, it corrodes them, leaving scars that never heal.

And maybe, like metals, we don’t know what we’re made of until we’re tested.