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It was there, a mind numbing prescence that disrupted all thoughts. It was neither good nor evil, it was simply... There. Omniprescent and omnipotent, neither human nor god. It was neither man or woman, animal or angel, sane or insane.

It was me who found it, and to me it belonged. For such a unique sense of selfish desire for the one that did not exist, was ecstacy in the mind of depression. It was a light in the veil of darkness, lifting the weight of the world from my worn shoulders. The desire for nothing, to be nothing, and it was nothing. Some say it is an impossible quest, commenting that to achieve nothing you must think nothing thus thinking of achieving nothing brings you back to the start. But I know that they are hipocrits, hiding behind a wall of literacy and scientific facts. To them, there was nothing. Scum of my thoughts these people were. They lied to themselves and believe in lies. They live lies, eat lies, sleep on a lie... That life was valuable, worth having, worth struggling to hold on to. But the harsh truth was that life was simply a state of conciousness, with states of bliss, depression and vanity mixed in.

In the unconcious there is nothing, a true state of nothing where the mind does not operate and all thoughts and acts are nothing. A true state of nothing and yet it was temporary. I wanted to have it... Forever. Death was unstable, with no responses from the nether. Is it nothing? I cannot be sure, as if nothing was on the other side... Who would come back to tell you. And yet there was that possibility of another life, that dreaded possibility of another conciousness. No. If life is unstable, death is volatile.

Yet I found something in the conciousness. A strange, good feeling. It may have been happiness. I was not sure, but I found an animal. It appeared to be a dog and was brown of colour. We would always meet and I would talk to him, about my thoughts. He would listen to me for hours and not make a noise. To me, he was my companion in arms, against conciousness. The sessions I had with him, felt different. Possibly enjoyable. But from whence it came to where it left. After a while, he stopped coming. I always waited for exactly an hour and three minutes at our silently designated location. On one occasion I took a detour to see if he came early this day, and as I turned a corner, I found him asleep in the gutter of the road. I bent down and spoke his name, but he did not move, nor did he make a sound. I picked him up and took him to my home. I put him near the fire and placed a small blanket on top of him. Surely he will arouse. A day went by with nothing. No movement or sound. He simply lay there, with his eyes closed. The feeling came back, the ever so familiar pressure on my chest. He left me behind in conciousness.

I knelt in ice. With nothing left to hold on to. My fingers froze and my mind went numb. I no longer felt my legs nor could I move them. The snow kept on falling on me, until I could no longer kneel straight and collapsed in the cold ice. After a while I felt no cold. Nor could I feel my legs, fingers, face, arms and chest. And it was there, I found it. It was nothing. And then it was gone.