Author Note:
This is a short story I think I might send into my school's Lit. department.
Should I, should I not?
Here is:




Nothing and Everything.


“I’m trying to hold it together.”
The last lines that means Nothing and Everything to me. Nothing because even if it is Everything I can do nothing. You finished our last letter before you stopped writing. I fold the yellowed letter back into its mangled and worn envelope.
The wind tears at my hair and chaps my blue lips.
It’s cold at the top of the world.
From above I watch the busy lives of the people on the ground. Watching, but not seeing. Not caring. What do they mean to me? Nothing and Everything. Nothing because even if they mean Everything I mean nothing. It keeps things interesting, tense, even.
I’m searching, while silently wrapping the last ribbon between the spaces in my chapped red hands. I need something. I’m screaming for something. Something is missing. I’ve seen so much of the same. I’ve been living unchanged, unmoved for too long. And the only thing I know is that this thing I need, it’s can’t be you.
You took all you could and flew like a bat out of hell.
5 am plane out of Chicago, heading towards the bright lights and green people of New York. You took the blue of the sky. You took the shimmer in the stars. You took the still of the buildings and the concrete I walk on. The only things you bothered to leave were the words in my head, heart, and the lust letters [or dust] that are strewn upon our bedroom floor. Now I know Nothing and Everything. Nothing because even if I know Everything none of it would be true. I could say I hate you. But I’d probably choke.
And anyway, I’d still be alone.
The regularity of it all is murdering me. I’d jump off this building if it would change anything. Then I would have Nothing and Everything. And its nights like these that scare the bravado [red] right out of me. The fall might be warmer than the land. Instead of racing Death, I’ll start back to the stairs; back to the empty apartment. I’ll write one more letter to myself.

Dear Me,
PITY. Pity. pity.
Crescendo to envy.
A slight drift towards understanding.
More pity, Signed :
Everything and Nothing.


Tonight my heart burns.
Tonight I’ll try to hold it all inside.
Just for tonight.
On my own.

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