On days like these.

On days like these... I have nothing to say.

Nothing to feel.

Nothing to give.

Nothing to offer anyone, nothing to offer even to myself.

Sometimes I let it be, sometimes I don't.

Sometimes I plunge myself into my inner worlds looking for anything that will make me feel something.

I travel through the echo of my mind, in search of stimulation, in search of meaning, impulse, sense. Begging my mind to send the needed electrical currents that will make me perceive something.

Anything.

But nothing.

I search physically then, hoping that I might be cheaply stimulated by virtual reality, hoping that just maybe the sentiments of the characters might be shifted on to me or that situations that are being exhibited might bring out emotions suppressed deep in my subconscious.

Sometimes I do so just to escape from the inevitable emptiness that overflows within and that I ultimately become.

Even instant gratification neglects me on days like these.

Only the mind functions. The body does not. The connection from my brain to my body has been severed and so the mind is the only way.

I try to recollect my memories, and not just imagery but sounds too, smells maybe, anything. Even those triggering moments that once invaded my peace but still nothing is all that remains.

So then I stare...

At everything that is supposedly real yet appears to be a hoax.

I stare at the walls that surround me but that only makes time go by excruciatingly slow.

It's almost as if I can hear time.

I feel how everything else is moving, how everything else is evolving, everything else is functioning.

Everything but me.

Even the sound of people walking past my street, the sound of children, it has no effect on me.

You would think that that would make me feel something even in the slightest but not even that does.

It's like my mind becomes an observer only and my nervous system has shut down.

No opinion, no feeling, no emotion, just mind.

I go to a specific type of consciousness where all there is present moment and since all moments are in the present, in that space I can't expect more, I can't want more, I can't be frustrated with myself for not being able to produce anything.

I just exist, I am nothing. And it's hard to maintain that space but that is where I can be nothing without expectations to be something. Without expectations to have to be anything other than what I am being in that moment.

Sometimes I let it be. I let nothingness consume me.

I let the wave crash on me, I allow it to be and I patiently wait for it to drift back, hoping that when it does it will take nothing with it so that I may feel something again.

I listen to the moment.

I listen out for a message.

But the only reality in this instant is my heart beat. That's the only sound that echoes. It's the only sound I hear.

And more I listen to it, the louder it becomes until it's the only thing I can hear.

My mind speculates how I could ever hear anything else and even more so, how I could ever overpower this which seems so prominent in the now.

But at some point nothing is all that dwells. I feel nothing, I hear nothing, I become nothing. I detach from this supposed reality, I detach even from the notion that is my self.

And it's in this pulse that I remain.

So I just wait for days like these to come and go.

Days where I feel nothing and can give nothing at all.