Nothing. Nada.
That’s the first thing that came to my mind.
Not because I’m empty.
Not because I’m lost.
But because I’m full.
Of feelings that don’t have shape.
Of thoughts that haven’t finished arriving.
Of memories that smell like something I forgot to put away.
So yeah. Nothing.
But it’s a deep nothing. A quiet one.
The kind you sit with on a front porch when the sky’s turning pink and no one expects you to talk.
Because the truth is, even my nothing has personality.
Nothing has layers.
So yeah—the first thing that came to my mind was nothing.
And honestly? That’s something. Nada.
...The Rest Is His Story 
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