I can prove many things about the number e. I can prove e exists. I can't prove anything about you. Did you exist? I can't see it now. I can take my pain and discard it. There is no way to discard e.e is 2.71828.... and it never changes. What are you? You took the head-on collision with oblivion that is impossible for e. Unless the entirety of reality ends, e will be present and shining. But e isn't God. And the joke played on you---the atheist who admired believers for their ability to believe nonsense---is that the fantasy called God was forced on you at the end. e was there too, but what did you know about that?
I have affection for e. I can trust e to be as it is without reservation. My affection for you was misplaced. My mistake was to create a false friendship. I can't do that with e. e imposes its truth on everything, and its truth cannot be altered by my wishful thinking.
e is a limit. Were you aware of your limits? The chaos you created will soon fade to zero. That is your limit. The limit that makes e is not a trivial zero. We can use e to create beauty and pleasure. With e, we can see beyond our limits. We can see beyond your limit too, but you aren't necessary for that perception.
I understand e. I doubt if I ever understood anything about you, and I know you didn't know e.
I can't reject e, but I can reject you. I can forget your name and everything we ever discussed. Those memories can be wiped away, and they will be someday. Sure, I can forget e, but e will still remain, and remembering e is simply a matter of going through the proofs about it. No proof will ever reconstruct my memories of you, and that is my relief.
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