This will be the last problem for tonight .

Do you remember that night when you simply could not sleep?

You sat alone studying mathematics, trying to understand a small part of a strange theorem or a complicated proof from an article written by someone you had never met. A random paper hidden somewhere on the internet, discovered by accident at two in the morning, suddenly became more important than sleep itself.

Or maybe you were trying to prove something new.

Something nobody had written before.

Something brilliant.

I am completely sure that, at some point, you have been there too.

How many times did you try to stop and go to sleep, only to return once again to your notebook to write strange ideas that only you could understand?

How many times did you promise yourself that you would stop trying to prove every statement in a book, yet somehow you continued turning the pages for hours?

And how many times did one problem become ten more problems?

It is strange, isn’t it?

As if mathematics slowly takes control of your thoughts, your routines, your emotions, and sometimes even your entire life.

At first, it feels beautiful. You solve one difficult problem and suddenly your mind lights up in a way that normal life rarely provides.

There is a strange satisfaction hidden inside mathematics, a kind of silent reward that keeps pushing you forward. Every solved equation feels like discovering a secret that the universe tried to hide from everyone else.

And that feeling becomes addictive. You begin chasing it without noticing.

Days become nights.

Nights become weeks.

You stop replying to messages.

You cancel plans.

Conversations become shorter.

People slowly disappear from your life while your notebooks become fuller and fuller.

The strangest part is that you notice all of this happening, yet some part of you does not want it to stop.

I still cannot forget those long nights when I barely slept at all.

Nights filled with exhaustion, confusion, and a sadness so heavy that even simple things became difficult.

I destroyed personal relationships, emotional connections, and pieces of myself without fully understanding why.

In the end, I was left alone with my thoughts, constantly asking myself how to fix everything.

But somewhere deep inside me, there was also a part that did not want to be saved.

Maybe because mathematics had already become more than just a subject.

Maybe it had become an escape. Or maybe it became the only place where things still made sense.

I am not writing this to give motivational advice or to explain how to organize your life better.

I simply wanted to talk about how strange all of this really is.

How strange it is that symbols on paper can affect us so deeply.

How strange it is that a proof, an equation, or a difficult problem can make someone forget the world around them for hours.

And perhaps the strangest thing of all is the feeling that comes after solving something difficult.

That brief moment of clarity and victory. It feels as if something invisible is pulling you forward, asking you to continue no matter how tired you are.

So I will give only one piece of advice.

If one day you feel that you have lost mathematics, do not destroy yourself trying desperately to get it back. Accept it and continue living your life.

And if you still have mathematics, do not lose your life because of it.

Because in the end, even the most beautiful equations are not worth becoming a stranger to yourself