But there were worse things than disappointment, and I’d lived through several of them already.
I disliked numbers, and they didn’t think much of me either.
I might not be ready to pour out my feelings to the world, but I’d had enough of trying to ignore them.
I realized then that even though I was a tiny speck in an infinite cosmos, a blip on the timeline of eternity, I was not without purpose. And as long as I had a part in the music of the spheres, even if it was only a single grace note, I was not worthless. Nor was I alone.
I saw the whole universe laid out before me, a vast shining machine of indescribable beauty and complexity. Its design was too intricate for me to understand, and I knew I could never begin to grasp more than the smallest idea of its purpose. But I sensed that every part of it, from quark to quasar, was unique and – in some mysterious way – significant.