Nothing? Really?

Looking back over what I wrote it seemed like I could use it to make something. I should work with it some more. Here's a go, and then I really need to hit the old bed.

Dark. Wet. Nothing else. I think. I listen. Is it really thinking? Is it too early? Or is it just nothing? Even if I did, what have I to think? I do think. I wonder. I can feel. I feel my skin and the walls around me. I'm being called. I hear voices and screams. I can't ignore it. I'm gone.

I eat. I can do that now. Tangerines. I always liked them. What can I do today? So much done. So much to do. Something happened. I can feel it. I'm bleeding. It's nothing. I always bleed now. I never bled then. All I could do then was think. Still, I can't let the bleeding continue. I'm gone.

Am I staying? Not for long. Soon, nothing. I think about all the things I've done. It was fun while it lasted. Even when I bled it was worth it. I'm wavering. Waiting. It's getting late. I realize there's nothing tomorrow. So much done, and now there's nothing. Ha. I can't ignore it. Nothing left but to give myself up now. I got only so much, but I made do. It will have to do. I'm gone.