The exercise:
Write something about: nothing.
Relatively quiet day around here. That's certainly not a complaint.
Mine:
I was born into nothing. It was my constant companion throughout my childhood, never far away. Always ready to provide reminders of how little I had.
How little I mattered.
My street, littered with broken-down cars and forgotten trash, was a dead-end. Just to drive the point home, or so I always thought. I don't know if things would have been any different had I lived on a thoroughfare. Probably not.
Maybe with a few more functioning vehicles going by each day I'd have been run over before I got to here and now. Wishful thinking, I know.
I will return to nothing one day. Swallowed up by the earth, forever lost in the dark. It is unlikely that anyone will mourn me. But they will know who I was, what I did. I will be remembered.
Tonight... I will make sure that my name means something.