I will write about nothing. Nothing is what I will write about, but what is nothing except the lack of what you want to be. Perhaps I will write about everything instead of the nothingness that I run from. The nothing that is dark and cold from lack of heat and light. Why would I write about the things that could be considered nothing. Nothing is in fact nothing that I want to write. I will not write about nothing. Nothing is not what I will write about, but I will write about everything instead.
Yes, I will write about everything in my mind. I will jot down notes about my phone turning off, if only for the night, about conversations with groups of friends, and about people being bagels in a tired mind’s dreams. I will think about what I write as the words are typed, not wishing to edit the words on the screen. I will only write and write I will. Yes, I will write about everything in my mind.
Let me fly away on the great big plane that is called my mine, so that I can dream about all the lovely things that come from the nothing being left behind. Who left this nothing, this hole for me to find and can I fill it up again with all the things that it lacks. I will shine the light of consciousness in the dark corners to go exploring into the depths of the unknown, like caves in a familiar mountain that was always left alone. I will fill the holes up with my thoughts, with ideas of love and of what I believe about being home.
I will write about nothing. Yes, I will write about everything in my mind, so let me fly away on the great big plane that is called my mind.