To be empty. It is how it is, a barrel of a loaded gun with no shooting point. It is empty, like when you approach things without hindsight. It is empty like when you arrive at the scene with no mountain. It is empty to see a light touching the floor of a dark room. It is empty to light a fire that has no existence. It is empty to walk between the ages of difference. It is empty to contemplate the reasoning of one moment, and the next appears with no sound. It is empty to look at you and see myself in the framework. It is empty to not have a sound that you like. It is empty to see the papers and all the bad words and my own failures. It is empty to strive even for the best of things, but not for the wrong reasons. The reasons behind this emptiness are more of my own bringing. Too attached to my concerns and too detached with whatever is out there. Something is out there, maybe it’s the hillbilly group singing their songs, maybe it’s the lawnmower cutting the grass for the 12th time, maybe it is me who is in the middle of all existence trying to stand against the force of my own likings. Maybe emptiness has taken a toll on me, which makes me a total idiot.

My tastes have gone down, the music has gone down, my guitar strings are tired with the same repetition of an expired chord, my mind is tricking me to be well. All the same hours are being played, and a longing for nothing to be over but to repeat the cycle because I am strong now, I can handle it. The tough guy with no moustache has nothing more to lose.

I had the AI check my writings, and all he has to say that it is quite vivid and strong but could be more beautiful if I edited it. Well, I guess, I don’t want it to be more beautiful. As it comes, I want to write and see whether I have it in me. The hope we all have, the existential approach to look at things, and the fire that comes and goes. Each day, each trivial failure, each desire, each empty layout, each prediction of the future, appears to every one of us and what do we do? We lay silent at its calling.

One could already say I am a negative person, I have this view of life that is full of nothing but a constant nag of the previous self to a new self, but for me, it is necessary, otherwise there won’t be any words, there won’t be any looking forward to my own typing sound, a lost soul description has no effect if I don't stand by the way I live. I do not like it, but life is just how it is. A moment of failure to calmness, to the pain, then a brief selection of things that are needed to be done, and women. Women and his desire, we all take a leap of faith to subside our own loss. Emptiness and you have a strong bond to exist, the slow movement of the hand clock, and the bluebird which always wants to sing and dance, but I don’t let her out, at least I try not to. I guess I am not that tough, the best of things and the worst of it all in the same form of living, striving with emptiness and a grunge of hope with a lost desire…what does it feel like to be empty?