La Vide

Is it so dull that I have cast away sadness and found that I am missing it? There is a gargantuan crevasse that is all-consuming and obliterates my sense of self. I am left solely with an expanse of nothingness. Complete empty, as though if it were the case that there existed no space and no time, this would be my soul.

I have accepted that eternity does not exist. So I live for the present. But as I analyze my present, and my ever enlarging gap, I see that I am becoming less and less as the present is present. And the origin of this gap I am not quite sure. It is vast. Larger than I expected my soul to be. I thought it usually filled with sadness, which I am happy to be rid of. But the more that gap grows, the more sadness I rid, the sadder I become. And there is everlasting sadness of which to dispose. Impermanence.

Perhaps because I have released my concern of everlasting nonexistence, and face an unstable future, I focus all on the present. Concerned with the particulars of my daily life. Perhaps this is the fault. I am focused on tedium, and because I am such, there is no possible way for excitement to get in. Excitement for the future. “Looking forward to” does not exist. And so it becomes very dull.

Laughter is little. Conversation sparse. Do I consume myself? Is it, in fact, I that am the gaping hole?

Or is it, more logically, the absence of a mental challenge? When I do allow myself to get to the point of mental stability, and un-stress, I become more mentally unstable than before. But if I remained in that stressed state, I would lose myself as well.

Why such dialectical occurrences in my simple–in my mundane human life?

There exist times when I am sure that I am composed of imploded nothingness. There exist times when I am sure that I do not exist, even though I think those thoughts. They are thoughts that float in the space that I used to exist. Observing the lack of me. And then they will be back into existence, simply by thinking of me. By thinking of how I do not exist. Thus making me exist.

I do not know what it is like to think about a thought.