Concepts and Constructs

Nothing

That was everything. The universe had ended; time itself had stopped. Though I'm not really sure if time can stop with it just being a mental construct. But, without anyone to think of it, it will end.

I want to try and imagine what things are like now that I, and everyone I know, are gone. Unfortunately there isn't anything to imagine. Nothingness; it's so simple, and yet so difficult to picture. No light and no darkness. Every being in the universe has acknowledged its existence and the existence or nonexistence of everything around it through opposites; light and dark, everything and nothing, life and death.

Even now as my consciousness is observing this end-all phenomena, my mind constructs things to make it comprehendible. I see nothing in the darkness. It's like a human mind. The only place where abstract concepts and nonsensical things can truly exist. Upon this understanding I stopped trying to make sense of everything and that is when I understood.

This is dark, light, and neither; this is everything and nothing at the same time; I am alive, but not in the sense I understood before.

Am I in my mind? Or is my mind just a part of this abstract place I can't fully understand? Are the minds of the remaining beings of my known universe here? Does it matter? This place can be whatever I want it to be, and at the moment, I want a dream.

Whether this is my imagination, the end, or both; I have complete creative freedom. I create the light and darkness here; I choose what can and can't exist; what's impossible and what isn't. I decide what life is.

But of course, there is a longing for familiarity rooted deep within my soul. A wish that things were as simple as they were with all of the opposites predetermined for everyone. And with this wish I create my body. I am how I saw myself in my mind, not in my old reality. I'm a quite a bit taller than my upsettingly 5 foot tall teenage body was, I have lighter skin and my complexion is without the blemishes my body used to bare. My skin is cartoonishly smooth without any kind of wrinkles, lines, or scars. My fingers are longer and thinner than they were, but my palms kept their four major lines that I fully believed were true to my personality and the person I would turn out to be. My hair is thick, long, straight, and a pleasant dark brown color. Some of it falls over onto my wide framed glasses that I always felt were a part of my personality and I brush it to the side with my newly created hand.

I take in a deep breath knowing there isn't any real air here and that I probably don't even have working lungs, but appreciating going through the familiar motion. I stretch and enjoy feeling a body once again, but now I long for warmth. The warmth a star gives a planet to allow life. The fact that I'm neither warm nor cold gives me a sort of empty feeling.