Nothing
There are creatures in this world that thrive on nothingness.
How can a being with life live without two hands and feet? How miserable it must be?
But life exists in a myriad of unusual mediums.
We uphold a human notion that despair, happiness, and peace exist for all things in our universe, but there are simply beings that are without shape or form — Things that live in nothing, a nihil state of meaninglessness.
Yet they exist and don't cease to; their meaning exists solely in their inaction, a thing for others to take advantage of, a food for thought, and a resource completely deprived of any value.
These nameless pillars build our very existence; in a cruel irony, we only are because of what they aren't.
I hope I don't ever become one of them; I wouldn't wish to exist as a shapeless, thoughtless, meaningless, formless, useless being.
Although I do imagine no one does, yet, there they are; something had to become nothing.
Perhaps every human is doomed to become a nameless star, or the mindless dust that drifts in silence.
Is it doom, fate, or mere happenstance? To become nothing;
Maybe it doesn't even have a name.
