I believe in something

Abigail - Briarcliff Manor, New York
Entered on June 13, 2008
Age Group: Under 18

I believe in something.

I believe in something. Sufficiently vague, but true. Actually, there are two kinds of somethings that I believe in. The first category contains moral beliefs. I believe in equality, individuality, creativity. The second category is more of a tangible something, something a little less abstract. What I really mean to say is that I believe that there is no nothing.

Apparently the universe is full of nothing. Nothing, save a few small, colorful rocks and somewhat larger, glowing balls of gas. All the evidence points to the emptiness of space: the way light travels, the way sound doesn’t travel—even the name we assign to it: “space.” It’s just … space. But I’m not so sure that I agree.

Here on Earth, you can’t touch nothing. That’s because there is no nothing. Everything is something. There can’t be nothing anywhere—not here, not on the moon, not anywhere in the universe. When an astronaut reaches out of his shuttle, what does he touch? Nothing? How does one touch nothing?

Everyone agrees that planets and stars take up room in space. What separates them is nothing. But that nothing must be something in order for those objects to remain at fixed distances and in their proper places. I believe that there cannot be nothing in space or else the universe would collapse.

I am not going to pretend to know what that something is. Perhaps it is a form of matter that does not exist on Earth, or perhaps it does exist here, but nobody has discovered it yet. Just because we don’t know what it is doesn’t mean that we have to relegate it to nothingness. When people refer to air here on Earth, they usually refer to it as “nothing.” Similarly, there might be a substance out there, waiting to be discovered just as air had been waiting, that people call “nothing” for lack of a proper name. I believe that this something exists, for I believe that there is no such thing as nothing.

I will not stop believing until the void is filled with something. A part of me, a part of man’s concept of the universe—a part of humanity—is missing, is lost in the abyss of space and time and will materialize with the universe’s unknown substance. And when that discovery is made, I believe that our notion of our place in the universe will change dramatically. We will no longer be dwellers on a lone rock among the stars, floating in an ocean of nothing. We will have a purpose, a place amidst other floaters of the vast, dark sea—and we will be surrounded by something: a something that defines life and the entire universe.