Sitting here and twiddling my thumbs and trying to work out what to write about. I feel like I should have something to cover. I want to have some sort of thing to convey but I’ve got nothing and maybe that has to do with a lack of sleep.
Maybe it has to do with a lot of things, but at least for now I can confirm that I’m here and I’ve got nothing and in having nothing I have something that I can hold and call my own. I can hold it near and dear and that way I have something that is precious and important.
It is the nothingness which I must treasure and treat with all the respect that I can. I need to make sure that it is looked after and so that way it can grow into more nothing… through the care of nothing.
See? I really do have nothing, but the thing is with nothing you can create something and that’s the beauty of it, so really, even if you have nothing you still have something and so there is something that you can get out of nothing so long as you’re willing to let it grow.
Now this is me trying to pretend that there is substance to this whole thing and unfortunately I am unable to confirm if there really is substance or if I’m just trying to drag this out as much as possible. I need sleep. I need sleep so as to better grow the ideas that I have so I can better coverage of things and all that stuff.
Perhaps really what I should be doing is trying to write something so devoid of content that it makes anything else devoid of content look like it is positively brimming with things. I could do this and maybe I should do this, but I also don’t know if I should. It’s a big ask and a great challenge and perhaps I am not up to the task. I can admit when I am defeated – I hope – and maybe just the idea of this is defeating me. In that case I should write more about defeat and then let all the defeat wash over me as I write more about defeat.
Perhaps I should find some sort of victory in this, but there is no satisfaction. Finally I have come to something of which I can grapple with and embrace and write about, but I do not derive anything positive from this. It is a horrible fate of which i have allowed to come over myself and now I must dutifully see out the task at hand so I can get on with things related to defeat. From there I will see out the task and groan and whine and complain about the whole thing, but it’s all on me at the end of the day.
I should’ve stuck with nothing, really. At least that had a greater depth of substance.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:15:22
Of course defeat can have just as much substance, but I like the way this ends. Works with the complaining.
Written at home.