What is there, over there?
There is nothing
But then again, what is nothing?
I was born at the bottom of a pit where no light shone
As if it was… afraid of me. Afraid to fill up that nothing within me
As if pressed together by the darkness
Uncertain of what to become
Born under those dark, dark sediments
Born under those abhorrent impressions
I had a white form
My comrades were all in pure black
Would that mean, that I was, that I am… different? Or was my body a renounced canvas, empty and so untouchable not even the darkness would risk itself in my proximity?
In those black forms, with their eyes shining and teeth baring, they were certainly eating something.
And then...
There was nothing to me, except my eyes.
The void was still there, and it remained that way, maybe grew even stronger as I ripped off and devoured limb after limb, heart after heart.
And yet the emptiness remained, more absolute than the reality of this inane world.
I felt nothing
No, rather
It was possible that what I felt was truly a "void", yet
I could hear nothing,
I could bite nothing
I could smell nothing
I could feel nothing as I touch
I could not rest
I had no companion
Nothing but nothing
Just walking, alone
The things reflected in my eyes have no meaning
The things that could not be reflected in my eyes, do not exist.
Walking
Endlessly walking
Where the pit ended, the desert began. Where the light first hadn't dared to caress me, now suffocated me within its insurmountable grasp.
And yet still, it reflected in my eyes and held no meaning.
When I had arrived at that thought
I have found something extraordinary
It was, somewhat, the place of birth for those strange, translucent objects that dotted this world.
It was the first time my eyes have been captured.
And when my eyes where the only thing to me.
I followed them.
With no colour,
With no sound,
With no scent,
Does not interact with anything,
It only exists there.
It was the closest existence to "void" that I had ever laid eyes on.
It was, maybe, the closest thing that I had ever found "true".
I sank my body into that great "void"
My whiteness not illuminating it slightly.
There was nothing there,
Even I had lost my line of vision, and dissolved into the void,
And when my eyes vanished
it felt as if everything had disappeared.
Happiness.
But it didn't work.
The "void" chipped off my mask, and suddenly I no longer could only see.
I could hear something,
I could bite something
I could smell something
I could feel something as I touch
I could rest
But still nothing reflected in my eyes
And I was alone
The void grew larger
Smaller
More infinite
Less nowhere
And there was the man.
He offered me…
To fill the void
But even though my body was born anew, and my existence was now another, I was still empty.
I returned to the "void", tamed it, made it my weapon.
Through its translucence the light shined on me, streamed around me like a rock in a riverbed.
But my soul was still impenetrably empty.
The endless sorrow pouring down my face
Is in no way representative of how I… feel
Because feeling cannot be reflected into my eyes
It cannot exist
When the man asked me to crush my eyes
I did
When the man asked me to kill a boy
I did
When the man asked me to join his group
I did
But camaraderie was wasted upon me. Their heads were full of feelings, troubles, thoughts. Their souls, stirring, whirling, restless. Not like a hollow.
I was the true hollow.
Within and without.
I hid my powers.
Who would understand the nothingness of the "void" I wielded?
Who would comprehend my despair, my true Hollow-like despair?
But the man is smart
And wisdom leads to answers
Answers lead to questions
Questions are nihil
Maybe, once, sometimes, forever, surely, not.
Within I am restless
Without I am
If such a thing called happiness exists in this world, it should be something which resembles the limitless nothingness.
Something that resembles "true despair".
Nihilism is having nothing, and having nothing to lose.
If that isn't "happiness", then what is?
Others cannot understand.
They will not understand
What they behold as nothing is everything in my eyes
We feed off the ignorant
We fight against the stubborn
We die because of the wise
The things reflected in my eyes have no meaning
The things that could not be reflected in my eyes, do not exist.
There is nothing
No thing
In you
And in me
But less within
Than more without
The words in bold are literally adopted from Ulquiorra's back story, which served as the base for this article. All credits go to Tite Kubo for those lines.
