The Vacuum of the Empty Soul.

“If I lived by myself in a mountain hut in solitude with only my own abyss for company, I would have nothing interesting to say.”

The silent scream of emptiness, of the hollow self longing to be filled, of the lonely cog longing for its machine, a machine, any machine, something to be part of since, alone it is nothing.

We are not all individuals, we’re very few unique individuals among the many who are repeated ad nauseam, humping down the street, one-two, one-two, living the daily grind in coffee shops and bars, connecting to those marching left and right, ahead and behind in our parade only to maintain line and file, not more, not deeper, not even connecting with ourselves, with that deeper thing we might call “self” if we cared to look for it.

Perhaps I mistook what you wrote.

Perhaps that phrase meant, and means nothing, was an offhand statement or a transition or just filler or perhaps, even if I read it right, found a meaning you didn’t know you meant, even if you are looking into the vacuum of your soul and seeing nothing more than a cog looking for a machine, I’m not good enough at expressing my thoughts to make you wonder or care about why alone, you are nothing, why in you — you, the only thing you truly own in this life, you see the abyss while, in others you see salvation.

Perhaps I lack at finding truths and using words to express them.

Undoubtedly so. No Medium publications, including this one, have accepted any of my offerings so, maybe I should quit agonizing over deep thoughts and the words with which to express them and instead, as you suggest, start hanging around in bars and writing thoughtless, poorly crafted works of no meaning. They seem to comprise most of Medium’s content.