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A Moment of Nothing
#AMomentofNothing
How that second confirmation leaves, and everything feels a bit unsure. I try to fill the void with moments, with happiness, with joy and with pleasure; with sex.
What it feels to feel nothing: that largeness of sound creeping around the corner, into your ear. The way there is a pressure in the air, because another body fails to take up space.
It's always the same thing. When that nothingness builds itself to a peak, my body twitches at the idea of doing something. Sure, I could go outside, I could read a book, or write something like I'm doing now.
Instead a text fills my phone, a noise engulfing the room, and suddenly I feel less lonely. As if timed before madness, I travel to my inbox to find a text message rather inviting.
I take the invite, with glee, and I leave nothing at home with all my other treasuries. I'm the passenger to my own descent into something hardly a blessed sanctimony, with a cross around my chest dangling irrelevant. I'm not even religious.
In events like these, the moments fly by quickly, and when the sun rises over my sickly mind, horrid and so prickly, I wonder how I could be closer to divine. Away from this feeling that constricts me so wickedly, even though I'm left with nothing.
I return to nothing, having gained the same thing, and sit with myself in the moment feeling everything I felt before. A moment of nothing.
© Eric Bell
How that second confirmation leaves, and everything feels a bit unsure. I try to fill the void with moments, with happiness, with joy and with pleasure; with sex.
What it feels to feel nothing: that largeness of sound creeping around the corner, into your ear. The way there is a pressure in the air, because another body fails to take up space.
It's always the same thing. When that nothingness builds itself to a peak, my body twitches at the idea of doing something. Sure, I could go outside, I could read a book, or write something like I'm doing now.
Instead a text fills my phone, a noise engulfing the room, and suddenly I feel less lonely. As if timed before madness, I travel to my inbox to find a text message rather inviting.
I take the invite, with glee, and I leave nothing at home with all my other treasuries. I'm the passenger to my own descent into something hardly a blessed sanctimony, with a cross around my chest dangling irrelevant. I'm not even religious.
In events like these, the moments fly by quickly, and when the sun rises over my sickly mind, horrid and so prickly, I wonder how I could be closer to divine. Away from this feeling that constricts me so wickedly, even though I'm left with nothing.
I return to nothing, having gained the same thing, and sit with myself in the moment feeling everything I felt before. A moment of nothing.
© Eric Bell
