lately i’ve been mentally preoccupied by things that are fake. fake beauty, fake sentiments, fake values, fake fame, fake meaning, fake interest. i am here and my eyes are open but i’m not watching anything–there’s just this visual noise, and when it’s quiet i feel nervous, but though it’s there it doesn’t impress itself upon me, but doesn’t quite go past me either. you are there, maybe wanting to be seen, maybe wanting to watch, maybe wanting to learn something you can recycle into yourself that will later be seen by someone else. someone else will say “fuck, she’s cool.” but most likely they’ll be saying oh. wait. what? I think that now i’ll be so bold as to make a generalization that i’ve based off my own limited observations– i think that people are afraid of a concept i’m going to refer to as “nothing”. it’s difficult to define this in a way that conforms to the basic constraints of the word’s connotations and still indicates my point accurately. “nothing” meaning lack of relatable external factors–one’s own thoughts, one’s own “self”; not the put on self, the future self, the anticipated self, the associated self. just you, all alone, separated from everything you associate with your identity: what you do, where you’re from, who you’re with, how you look, what you watch. under all these things is the nothing i refer to. it’s the thing that seeks, however needfully. i know this has been written about before, more eloquently and educatedly, but i think the audience for classical philosophy and behavioral psychology is probably smaller than the audience for twilight fan fiction at this point. But, this goes somewhere… i’ve realized there is nothing wrong with the Nothing. in fact, I’m rather proud to call Nothing my own. life need not be more than an exercise in free association. I decided to be happy that I don’t have parents who care about me because I have nobody to thrill, disappoint, or even consider. I’d rather be myself than a happy make-up caked illusion with a trust fund. i appreciate the fact that I’m not pregnant in a nowhere town searching for some identity to adopt or imitate. And also, I think i really am happy that I’m 23 and I can still admit that I have next to no idea what I’m going to do with my life. my education only served to make the traditional oversimplified concept of “the real world” seem even more unnecessary than ever before. I can still run away and join a circus. I can leave this or any town at any time. I can create and destroy any number of versions of myself because I have yet to sell my life to anything or anyone. freedom can be retained simply by refusing to choose. and I am relishing the time spent on the far end of any decision.