There is no Difference

There is nothing going on here. I disappear. I am silence. There is so much action out there. It’s endless. Should I go bowling? What’s the difference? There is conversation and there is interaction. But it’s out there. It’s always out there. What does it mean to sit alone in pure nothing, without drugs, without alcohol, with nothing but the bewildered self? Is it the same as being out there? I’m here. I’m in here. Am I missing something? Or am I missing something when I’m out there? Am I trying to hide from myself when I converse and interact and consume? Yum yum yum, can I please have another one? Let me tell you what I think, or what I think I think, or what I want you to think I think. Let me demonstrate the me I think I want you to see. Who is the me who is trying to be? It’s empty, time passes, and there is only nothing alone, and that’s all there is. Nothing. Until we depart again and interact, return to the bouncing, spinning, magical illusion of particle collision. Here I am. Nothing becomes something in the eyes of the other. Two nothings create each other. But here I am, alone, interacting with a keyboard, pretending myself in solitude.