Nothing here, don’t waste your time reading.
I will not write about something today, somethings are overrated, unnecessary, limited in range. Today I will write nothing because that is the vortex I’m currently packing my bags to travel into.
Over the past weeks, I’ve had a lot of somethings to say but in their place said nothing. It’s starting to take a toll.
This is starting to feel contradictory, isn’t it? How can I say I want to say nothing and yet continue saying? By talking about nothing am I not already talking about something?
That’s the problem I fear, I don’t really want to say nothing, I want to say a definite something but a definite something that lacks a thing. Just object no subject. Are you confused? Good, so am I.
I strained myself having to decide which of my children to bring outside and show to the world. I could only bring one you see, and as you know, no father should ever have to go through such a thing. So today, instead of going through with that unholy act, I have decided I am just going to come out by myself with nothing but my member in hand for all to see.
No, I’m here with clothes, it’s just my member in hand for all to see. It’s something alright, something huge but all the same, it’s nothing. A rather large glorious piece of beautiful nothing.
You shouldn’t have to see me like this, you don’t deserve it, you did nothing wrong. I shouldn’t have to punish you like this but you see, the one responsible for my state of nothing cannot be punished. It. He. She. Them. are above punishment, so I have to vent my nothingness before you.
Here’s something I’ve discovered: If you say enough nothings in the wrong other, it will all amount to nothing.
Oh did you think nothingness was a state of emptiness? Quietness? Solemnity? you fool.
A tear just tried to sneak out of my eyes but I caught it, glory to God. Lest it betrays my mask. I’m hoping if I can pour my nothingness out into the world long enough and hard enough I will finally be left with something, anything, however little it may be. Beggars are not choosers.
I’m not who you think I am, I’m not who I think I am, I am something, that, I’m sure of, although I’m also sure that I am nothing. Are you confused? Are you currently trying to deduce sense from the nonsense I have thrown out so far?
You are also nothing, nothing desperately searching for something when there is obviously nothing to be seen. You pathetic thing. What will you do now?
I probably need sleep, I need food, I don’t know what I need. But I want nothing.
This is Unintelligible nonsense, isn’t it? I’m surprised you are still here. Why are you here though. Ahh you’re waiting for the punchline, an explanation for my senseless rambling.
I’M SORRY.
