There Is No Life

nothing is real. everything has always been nothing, and nothing more. except one thing.

a computer sits still. static roaming the seemingly endless screen, bouncing off of every corner. that's all it's ever been. it sits empty, uncontrolled, and helpless in the dark, depressing void of perpetual black. accompanied in its never ending still is a mouse, a desk, and a chair. an empty chair that sits perfectly under the table, never inhabited by mass, always undisturbed.

the computer is, has, and was always there. there is no time. no people. no life.

except now. a mass comes to be. there is no way of knowing why, or rather how, but it appears. it is a boy.