Story of stories

Nothing

I have nothing.

It is weird. Not having anything meaningful to say.

Not having something to talk about.

I mean I always have something to say. I always am talking.

When it comes to writing sometimes i just have nothing. I am awake for 10-12 hours everyday and I have nothing to say. It is amazing isn’t it.

Numbers like 2, 24, 9, and 33 are completely irrelevant and have nothing to do with what I should be writing about but yet they are on the page so they must be important.

Everything has meaning, everything is said for a reason.

Random numbers seem useless and yet they mean something. Our words are like random numbers, they seem completely harmless and unimportant but they mean something to someone.

The numbers I wrote could be someone's locker combination or the answers to a test, even a winning lottery ticket.

Words that seem like nothingness to you and something to someone else. If we all realized that the world would be a better place.

If people realized the somethingness in words then people wouldn’t have to spend the time being hurt over those words.

I always have something to talk about, I always have something to say. I sometimes wonder if my words were something to other people. The nothingness I thought I was saying was important to someone else.

At the beginning of writing this I had nothing. I talked about nothing for a half a page. You read about something and nothing; maybe you think you learnt something from this. Maybe you walked away from reading this with the wheels of your head spinning. Remember I talked about nothing smart, nothing important, nothing that made sense. I talked about something random, random numbers, and random words. Nothing that could possibly maybe be something.