In the grand tapestry of existence, we find ourselves lost in the threads of nothingness.
A paradox of meaning, born from the void, where the absence of purpose begets a purpose of its own.
We're like sailors on a sea of nothing, searching for a shore that never was, on a map that's forever misplaced.
And so, we wander, lost in the labyrinth of the in-between, where the only constant is the absence of a constant.
Nothing is worse than the nothing we've got
Or maybe it's not. Maybe it's just... meh.