26 May 2004 - 6:09 pm

This is what came out of our writing exercise last night at my writing group. The word picked was merely Nothing. And that's what I got: Nothing.

Nothing is never what it seems. Nothing is but shining gleams, all illusion, all fluff; nothing is, nothing much.

In the birth order of my family, nothing came after me, so though everyone thinks I'm the youngest, nothing really is.

I used to try and tell my family and friends about nothing and what nothing did, but they all looked blankly at me, as if nothing wasn't even there.

So instead I turned to talking about something, anything, but most definitely not nothing, and eventually the blank stares went away when I talked of something, anything, but what I really wanted to talk most about was nothing, as I frequently still find myself preferring.

Nothing is good, nothing is bad, nothing is neither good nor bad. Nothing just is. Nothing is. Me and nothing, we go way back.

"Whatcha doing?" my mom would ask.

"Nothing," would be my reply.

Nothing gets better than this, I would think. Nothing at all.