Day. Sun. Clear skies and all those other things. There is little to say at the moment and yet I will find a way to say whatever it is. I will scrape from the bottom of the barrel and then once that has been scraped I will scrape into the bottom of the barrel.
I am tired and that is my own fault. This fatigue is of my won creation. Soon I will be going outside and the end result will be more fatigue. There will be a stretch of nothingness and in that nothingness perhaps everything will happen. Perhaps all in a singular moment everything that ever was, ever is and ever will be will happen all at once. It will be an experience. It might be too much but it also might not be enough.
I think that in saying all of this I need to think about what it is that I am really saying. Maybe I’m just looking for a thread to follow and that thread could be anything. It could be something in the writing, but it could also be something on my desk. Maybe it is the voice that is coming from my speakers. I am yet to find out but I am sure that with enough time I will eventually find out as to what it is, if there is even a thread to follow at all.
Perhaps there is nothing and I’m just here in a void. I’ve scraped together everything that I possibly can and so there is nothing left. There isn’t an exit as I made use of that too but I don’t know what I used it for. I’m sure it is buried somewhere among all of this stuff.
Maybe I can make use of the nothingness and somehow turn it into something, though I’m not sure as to how I’d go about doing so. I’m sure there is a way, however, and perhaps it is up to me and only me to do what it is that I need to do in order to make the nothingness into something. I have all the time in the world, though maybe I don’t and maybe what is really going on is that I’m dreaming a dream that no longer exists and as such I need to wake up from said dream.
It is a dream where I’ve lived a whole life and grew old and all those things and then I woke up, and in waking up I am confused. I am confused and I am thrown off, but soon I fade more and more into reality and become aware of what it is that had happened. I had lived a whole life and now that life no longer was, but I would tend to think about it. There was no nothingness and I was always there. I was always there and present and all those other things, and now I need to find a way to get back, but there is no getting back for the dream is now over.
Days would drift on by and there would be a sense of unrest as I would not want to slip back into a routine that seemed less real than the dream that I had and so I could travel. I could travel and see the world but that dream would forever reman a dream. I would keep on going and I would move through life and in moving through all of it I would have no choice but to accept that which I chase can never be had and so I would see things whilst buoyed by listlessness, for chasing that which is external in order to recover that which was once internal and now no longer exists would be foolish in this particular instance.
And so I drift through a series of banalities, fading away in terms of presence though it will appear as though I am there, but eventually the ideation of the dream fades away and slowly I come back into the room proper and find something else, but a certain itch always remains, even though its source is no longer something remembered.
Eventually, however, something may just present itself that will remind. Something that was thought to not exist but did, but it was never noticed. Perhaps a thread that can be followed will present itself and that thread will incite curiosity. However, do I dare follow it? Do I dare go where the thread leads?
There is so much to consider at this point and I don’t even know if it is worth considering. A dream was let go. It was able to rest and it was gone and there was no returning and finally there was a return to life. There was a return to life as I once knew it and so I got on with things.
However, now I can now know more about what was. I can return and experience it all again… maybe. Maybe it was just a dream for a reason and maybe I am merely tearing myself up for no reason.
In my indecision the thread disappears, making the choice for me and so I get on with life, left wondering about what could’ve happened even though I understand that there’s no point in considering that when there are other, more important things to worry about. However, lingering thought remains and I find myself drawn further and further inward into a deep nothingness that seems to pour on out without the slightest of difficulty, and I am beholden to it all and almost powerless to do anything other than consider the alternatives well beyond a time when they are worth considering, and I do this until suddenly I find myself pulled into a grand nothingness where everything has been used and all there is is a void. I can only wonder as to how I get myself out of this, but all I can do is ream.
The time it took to write one thousand words: 14:03:22
A little surprised this turned out the way it did but I’m okay with the result.
It’s a little longer than it needed to be but it kind of went somewhere which was nowhere which is more than can be said for a lot of things I write.
Written at home.