He minded the scent and thought of nothing, it became a sense of joy that disturbed him throughout the day, that to feel nothing, to sense and see nothing, but be at a state of pure empty, hollowed and near-life ending “time of the month”.
He’d look around the room and think over the buzzing, white screen broken TV. He layed on his green couch, he thought that there is more to endevaour than the moment he was in. He’d think of the past and what had become reality earlier, but ended too soon to even gather all his thoughts and gain something out of it. The thoughts that lingered though had all become questions, every one being slowly pondered over, finally to result in the same answer, “I don’t know”. But what it then gave him, was the sense of “not caring. Not caring for the world of others, being too miscarried, carried away by one singular human being. After this daily mind-trampling, reaping exercise, he jumped off the couch and went outside of his small, empty house. The day was brighter than ever, with a sun that mellowed the mood even further, and a nice cool breeze to bring more of nature to his eyes and nostrils. He’d go for a walk, walk by the pedestrians, the cyclers, the pavement that was hit by his boot collision. He’d walk through the congested human traffic, feel comfortable in his own stature, but looked for a place of solitude. Taking a right, he’d be already in a forest, siding the long struck pavement from both sides that lead to his house, almost a “point A to point B” type of situation. Cars came roaming on the asphalt road and his hearing became less aware of it, and the people. As soon as he reached closer to the woods, not much light was there due to the long, large trees covering with their branches that could make a wooden wing of a plane come true.
He’d be there walking, and walking until he hit what he felt was the center of the forest, not foreseeable. Yet he went on a large round rock in the “middle”of the forest and sat down on it. He took a smoke to have more thought and necessity to be there. What he realised once from time to time, is that he’d be always closed down in the end from other sides, other people. It would make him isolated, this time the sensation, the realisation, the feeling wasn’t agitating or saddening, yet felt like the norm. He felt so used to it to look only forward to it. Life seemed uneccesary to feel for, he had nothing to mind about. The loved ones had gone, either leaving or naturally passing to their next one. The music seemed to be singing the last notes to be heard by him, soon all dissipating. He felt that nothing new will come out with music. Even the basic enjoyment became too little to be given some thought to. He’d become a senser of nothing, his new mastery.
After hours passed, time went on and he stayed in the position he had placed himself in the middle of the forest. A character appeared out of the blue, blurred between the trees. Sensing another human, he walked to see who it was. To know it wasn’t anyone, just the mind spiralling to see out images of from his thoughts, who he wanted to see. In distraught, he went on finally back on his way back. The night had come and back to walking, nothing more but headlights driving, shining and passing by. The house was near, and another face he saw. Wondering again if it was his own mind or reality, it was someone real. He walked nearer and heard a voice, suttle and warm, to tell him where he was. He felt the sense of worry coming from them.
Finally, “where were you?” was asked by the person, he’d squint closer to know it was reality, and it was. He invited them over. What came next lead to his joy being regained, the sense of a smile to be brought on his face, and nothing became something. Hope was gained, so was his own self-worth. To ponder, is healthy and brings wisdom, but too much of it, can bring you to close down from the ones around, and the world itself.