Nothing...

To do nothing and to be nothing are two different things. There come times though when they seem one, and it is this strange contradictory situation, when depression coexists with a feeling of elevated suspension. I walk on a tight rope made of nothing, staring at blank spaces on either side that inundate my brain with more of nothing. I don’t want to remember anything because I fear I won’t. Somehow I feel that that my brain now exists in a realm where my past and present are merging into a ‘null point’, a point where all faculties that my brain could have called upon, have now dissolved into complete nothingness, leaving behind a void that can only be filled with fear. To think of it, the world of today can only stand for ‘all’ or ‘nothing’. To be equivocal is to mean nothing. To be suspended in thought is to signify nothingness. To be non-judgmental and perceptive is to mean nothing. This, because in the world I live in, there is no room for indecision, suspension, random motion or an answer more than one. Decisiveness is not my greatest companion, nor do I believe in endings, cause there really aren’t any. Only cycles exist. My love for creative ambiguity can only bring forth the creation of an abstract nothing. Even in the angst to prove a point, or to achieve a victory in a battle of beliefs , there exists an elemental futility, a summation leading to nothing, for what are beliefs but pathways to some form of existence, pathways that all lead to the same destination. The journey on such a pathway is what we call life, but all these pathways dissolve in a null point, a point where one suddenly realizes that his was not the only pathway, a realization rather late in the day. And what after death, what remains but nothing. So maybe life does come to nothing. Maybe my rather dispassionate life does emblematize nothing. Snapping back to reality, my eyes, now wearing lenses of worldly perception, feel nothing after reading this quasi-philosophical yet quintessentially escapist piece of nothingness. I am sure you’ve felt the same, unless you consider yourself an outsider to this world, much like me, for unlike the rest of world, I do savor these special moments of ‘nothing’ in my life. And now that you have read so much about nothing, I’ll just throw a small question. Faced with those blank, suspended, seemingly directionless and illusory phases of life, how do you tend to look at life? What does it mean to you?.. nothing special?.. or a special nothing?