By Naysa Shah, 12A
Life is like a program.
You program it and plan it, but when you run it, it fails in many places.
You begin with a small piece of code, an instantiation. You are a creation. You are perfect, and you can do many things in the future. The program runs perfectly.
Then you add more bits, functions, and fancy things, whatnots of a programmer. When you run it again, you’re older, it fails; it fails in many places. There are missing spots, problems, and unexpected outputs, along with so, so many errors. You spend hours, days, years thinking and perfecting.
In reality, trying and doing to create a good program.
You run it for fun, to remember the good times, and the good times show up perfectly as outputs. If you stop coding, your life is at a standstill. If you let the bad things and memories pick you apart and bring you down, you leave the program imperfect. You do not care about its errors any longer (it dies in its essence); each program is different, each a canvas, and sometimes people die with dreams unfulfilled.
When you run their files, you see the errors and things they were trying to do, their effort and strife for perfection are gloriously evident; and sometimes, people die having lived their purpose through. The program runs perfectly, all simulations come out okay. It’s beautifully documented with comments and a concrete algorithm. Those programs are rare.
Who do you want to be when you die?
When you are close to dying, you’ll run the program one last time. The errors will look like milestones, the successes and the journey; all of these will be fondly remembered. The effort it took to create this program, the people who popped in bits along the way, changing parts here and there, but everything is still authored by you, most of it.
People change us; they may have better ideas, but their algorithm may not work for you. Your unique spin on an idea can never be stolen.
(The irony of this statement is amusing.)
The question is, how do you want to leave your file behind?
Published, on the Internet?
Tucked into the corner of a computer screen under many folders, where none can find it?
Made private so only those closest to you can view it?
The only thing to be sure of, or that matters, is that here in this world, just make sure your file isn’t small or insipid. Fill it up with dreams, code, and a good amount of comments so you can learn from your mistakes!