I am a zero person and have always been a zero person and certainly will remain so until the end. The space between zero and one is a further distance than from one to infinity because, infinity is made of many ones but how to get from nothing to something is inscrutable. A zero is like a bubble floating through the air sometimes taking a place but never having value. Yet it is the zero, which truly gives everything value. Light must come out of the darkness of zero to become something but in a world of something I am nothing and there is really nothing I want other than to change the world.
Being nothing has its challenges and advantages. Nothing is an enigma, a thing without form or being but with a capacity to become anything; but the catch is, zero is only meaningful in collaboration with other numbers. I feel the same about myself; I feel the loneliness of zero but I do not wish to be a digit, just connected to one. Looking out from the zero, everything is equal but the bubble of zero distorts what is real; without another digit defining the place and purpose of the zero, nothing can go on forever. Sometimes I feel like a nothing going on forever, living in my little bubble filled with esoteric knowledge, which is only appreciable from within the bubble.
While I was writing this, I got up to go outside and have a smoke. While, returning I lost my balance and fell backwards, hitting my lower back against a large planting pot my landlord had removed from its regular place to sit on it with his back against the wall. I forgot it was there while falling and was surprised to be assaulted by this immovable object. I lay there crumpled in the dirt for ten minutes unable to move. Finally I struggle my way into the house, reclined on my bed and tried to think what to do. I called my friend.
My friend told me, I should go get some ice and Advil and don’t bother going to the hospital because if anything was broken I would be unable to move. When I felt a little better, I went to my car and gingerly started it up and began to go, but something was wrong. I got out and sure enough, I had a flat tire. So while waiting for the tow truck, I am finishing this little essay. Life is amazing. Sometimes things make you feel good and sometimes things make you feel bad but each experience somehow is needed to make the story of creation whole. Because nothing in creation is superfluous.
Unquestionably, pain is the final arbiter; everything feels pain, even nothing. Zero is a concept but zero is also a reality. Whereas digits build, zero takes place. So, I am here in my place awaiting the tow truck to arrive while nursing a throbbing pain in my lower ribs wondering, what in the world is going on, when one of my neighbors drove up and asked how I was, so I told him while clutching at my body riveted with pain. He ran home and got me some advil and water. His name is Peter. God bless Peter.