<turn off the music when you read this. the empty spaces where this writing was born are devoid of any.>
The dreaded URL: http://spaces.empty.com/ (leads nowhere. Target is empty.)
There’s a sea of emptiness swirling inside me. An emptiness that I found out by myself. Unveiled. Uncovered. I’m proud of it. Infinite. That’s what I am. I’m proud of it. I’m afraid of it. Because it’s empty. So empty, so nothing but vacuum, empty, sweeping the meaning of ‘myself’ away. [vide I?] And then I wonder who’s this guy thinking about who he is? Who’s this guy who found out emptiness in himself? Me? Really, I never knew — was that me? Sure? Who wrote this paragraph? Me? Who is me? Can you tell me apart from everyone else? How can you? How can you separate emptiness from emptiness?
Being different is a blessing. Being too different is a curse. I notice everyone else going around with full and satisfactory knowledge of who they are, and I think…
…I had some idea as to who I was. Then I dug deep within me to find out if I was more. And I lost what little I had of me.
Thanks God, for Life, thanks for playing this little trick on me. Thanks for the illusions. Thanks for my family, for the friends, for the one-way loves I found along the way. Thanks for the sunset, for the evening rains, for the colours, for the people who loved me, for the people who hated me. Thanks a lot.
<now you can hit play again. thank you for your valuable time.>