Nothing
exists except atoms and empty space; everything else is just opinion.
-Democritus
-Democritus
I don’t know what I am doing
here. Where my life is headed, where it should be headed, I am unable to
contemplate. Listening to melancholic piano instrumentals, I find myself
relaxed. In this helplessness, I have found a different sort of peace. My life
and thoughts are naked. There’s nothing to be scared of, nothing to lose,
nothing to hide, nothing to pretend. It’s all out there. I don’t know how to
measure the value of my existence, or whether there even exists any way to do
that. The music makes me feel like I am on some kind of invisible turf, gliding
across an unknown space. The mind is blank. I am thinking whether I should
think anything. Perhaps I am too tired for voluntary thinking, forcing myself
into thoughts I don’t want to delve into. There is no anger, no frustration, no
joy, no haste, nothing. It’s like a book whose pages are blank. You can read
whatever you want to. You don’t have to go through the words someone else has
scribbled. Just that I choose not to read. I merely opened the book and was
astound by the beauty of the nothingness. I don’t want to read. I keep staring
at the pages, emotionless like a piece of rock on a cold desert night.
The
music is still there. Perhaps it’s the only thing that is keeping me from
dying. There is a thin boundary between being completely blank and dying, and I
think the music’s keeping me on that line now. And it’s beautiful. I don’t
fancy death. Neither do I think it is an escape. It’s just a state, as elegant
and existent as life, just less dynamic. Your life is how much of it you want
to go through. Did you notice how many times you blinked while reading this
shit I have scribbled? Most probably not. That’s a piece of your reality that
just went by. A piece of information that helped create the notion of you just
went unrecorded. But it was trivial, or most of us tend to believe so. You
choose to know only fractions of yourself. And that’s perhaps the mechanism
that keeps you sane, for sanity is, I suppose, thinking within the boundaries
of a predefined ‘normal’ space. Am I insane? No, because I believe I am still
inside that boundary. The music soothes me; it keeps me from thinking about
stuff most of you are going through when I am writing this little piece for
myself. Meanwhile, I embrace emptiness. I fall back, looking at myself and the
world from an angle I have never seen before. In this emptiness there are flows
of feeling incredible. I feel like I am an all-knowledgeable entity, something
like the concept of god, and I don’t care about anything. I am free. This
moment is like an intensely powerful orgasm, albeit incredibly silent, and lasting
infinitesimally longer; flowing like a wave. The tune goes on, and I go on.
Come with me, and let’s fade into nothingness. Let’s go back to where it all
started. I can’t believe I have scribbled this much of absolute randomness, the
minute vibrations of a mind at peace, almost 550 words, and still there’s nothing
to it, no meaning to it, no purpose.
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