When I was born… There was nothing. Humans think they understand nothing, but they do not. Perhaps, the sight of water is the closest they can get to understand noting. But, even when they look at a cup of water, they see what is on the other side.
How can I be in a room which contains nothing if it has anything it is my mind. But I can feel it failing me. I seek colors. Black and or even white would be such a blessing. My mind's ability to think in sentences is gone. I remembered a word; someone called it sound?
I know I experienced it constantly, but what was it? I want to feel again. Talking with another being would be a blessing. The word talking shook my mind. Why is it so important? Does talking have anything to do with feeling? When people talk, do they feel?
I feel a small pain and lose track of my thoughts. I wish I had them. Finding any entertainment in this place that only contains my mind is a tall task. I know I have pondered the same ideas over and over. But, I forget what was the base for them? Why can I ask questions?
Wait… How can I be born in nothing? I cannot create anything. Nor is there substance here which is needed in creation. While I do not understand how I entered a pit of nothingness… How do I escape it? Because this place is now a place, there must be something outside of it.
Will there ever be another in such a place? Are they kind, or will they harm me? If they seek to harm me, what for?