Nothingness

They look with their eyes half closed. They see my body, but not my soul. They see my religion, but not my God. They take me to be what I am not, because they don’t look, not well enough, not deep enough. But why do I care? How can I blame them for not looking inside me, when I cannot see inside me either? Maybe, I want them to tell me who I am. Maybe, I want them to be deceived. Maybe, I want to look through their eyes, and see the person I am not. Maybe, because I am afraid, afraid to know myself. I don’t know. If I did, I would know myself. But I don’t. Sometimes I think I do. I feel I’ve searched my soul and know everything there is to know about me. And then I sit in smug satisfaction, feeling good and righteous, and pitying all those poor souls who don’t know themselves; not realising that it is not they who are blind. It is I.
I don’t know what I believe in, maybe because I don’t know if I believe in myself. They tell me I am thus, and I would like to believe it. Sometimes I do too.
I don’t know who I am, or where I come from, or where I’m going. Or whether I’m standing still. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be going anywhere. Is there a road I must travel, a path I must trudge? Sometimes I just want to be. I don’t want to do anything, don’t want to go anywhere, don’t want to live, and don’t want to die. But just be.
Be nothing, but be everything; the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. But that is not me, that is God. The God of the poor and the rich, the God of the living and the dead. But who is this God? Is my God the same as theirs? What if I say I have no God, that I am my own God and my own Devil? I am the Good and the Evil, the Love and the Hate. I am Woman and I am Man. I am, but I do not exist. Not in this world, not in the next. Not in the past, nor in the present, nor even in the future. I am a black hole, a burnt out star. And yet I glow with the brilliance of the sun.
I do not believe in anything, but I believe in everything. I cry but am indifferent, and laugh but don’t know why I do. My Love is as pure as my Hate, impure yet chaste, sacred yet unholy. I think faster than light, and yet my thoughts never move. I know everything and everyone, and yet understand nothing. I feel nothing, yet am full of emotions. I care about nothing, but am full of worries. The world’s burdens are not mine, but I am weighed down by them. I don’t stand up for what I believe in, and yet protest in my loudest voice. I can’t stand injustice, yet watch it every day. The world has made me what it wants me to be, and yet I am of my own making.

I am fearless, but my heart trembles with terror. I stand my ground, but try desperately to run away. I try to be rational, but no there’s no reason in what I’m thinking. There’s just fear, unreasonable, terrifying fear. Fear that engulfs, that swallows, that pulls you down into nothing, that leaves you faint. Fear that overwhelms, fear so great that it fills everything, and leaves you dazed, and trembling. Trying to run away, but not knowing from what.

There is no yesterday, and no tomorrow, and no today. There’s not a single whisper, yet it is booming with sound. There is no Light, and no Darkness. There is no Fire and no Earth. There’s just me, and the abyss of nothingness.