the nothingness.

am I here?

of course I am, yes.

all I need is a hand,

to drag me out again.

“the loneliness and the scream” by frightened rabbit

we are currently in the midst of something.

to be honest, it feels different every day. for some students, like me, it is nearly an extended break - on top of our spring break from last week. of course, it is different than a break. time is this looming thing. like the rest of the world, we are waiting. we are working on what we can (when we feel like it). just this week, we found out that classes will be held online for the rest of the semester. classes won’t resume until the end of march, though. so, there is time.

no matter what I pick up or spend my time with, I sit back and I feel mostly nothing. i’ve been doing all the things that I enjoy, playing guitar, drawing, reading, and watching pieces of television. I call those I love. I do all the things that I always try to do - and I resolve to do more, still. and still, I sit back into the nothingness.

it’s like taking a deep breath and waiting to release it… and waiting… and waiting… and just waiting.

this morning, I went out on a run without headphones. I hoped to recenter my thoughts and spend some time with the things around me. the air was cool, but enjoyable. it was foggy and damp with that unusual mist that is almost annoying. and it was the type of fog that colored everything in this silver / gray space. there weren’t many cars on the road. there were even less runners, which is rare. all that to say, it was quiet out.

I decided to take a route through campus, though now that I am writing this, I’m not sure what I was expecting. I cut across campus and came up under the breezeway by the UGA bookstore and student center. at 8am, this would typically be a bubbling area. buses would be dropping off groups of students. within the windows of the cafe, you would see students gathering for breakfast or heading in for coffee. instead, you could see the banners in the breezeway that were still crumpled from the weather. in the plaza and roadway there were workers trying to squeeze in cleaning and repairs on the sidewalk. the distant sound of a pressure washer could be heard. on the large bulletin board were two colorful posters displaying the events for march. these posters were wet and starting to fall off the board - making it hard to read the “march” title.

it seems like even the posters heard the news - march is canceled.

I feel that moment in the here and now. how we are all trying to put something back together in the midst of all this falling apart. maybe we could all use some minor cleaning and repairs. while doing things like drawing or reading may not solve my, or the world’s, disruption, it will at least offer some part of me expression and peace.

for now, i’m okay to just sit in the nothingness and that is something.