I’m nothing.

I know I’m nothing, because I came into nothing, from nothing.

I was born here, left here, and I am alone.

This place is not a place. It is simply darkness, and I have grown used to it.

Perhaps, there is a ground. I don’t know. It all just seems cold, to me.

Probably the worst part about being nothing is that I see everything.

It’s like I’m behind a one-way mirror, looking out into the world.

People are happy. Some are sad. I cannot feel these things. I can only pretend to feel them, because I am never there.

I am just an empty shell of someone I do not know, someone I cannot see.

I am a vessel, a corpse.

I am never needed and never called.

Nobody wants me, so nobody has me.

One day, I hope to be something, maybe even someone. I will feel the earth between wiggling toes and have a voice to sing with. I will have something to sing about. I will have a family that loves me more than anything.

But, right now, I am nothing.

I am nothing until someone chooses to make me into something real.

I am simply one of the lost, forgotten dreams.

And I have no hope.

Until you give it to me.