“Nothing is Everything in Disguise”
Three weeks into Freshman year, and I had four projects due, each from a different class. Sitting in my existential seminar, my head was spinning as my professor asked the large group of students in the lecture hall, “what it meant to ‘exist’,” and, “Is ‘nothing’ actually ‘everything’ in disguise?”
None of it made sense, yet my unstarted paper was due tomorrow. I tried to understand what Professor Winthrop was asking, but I just couldn’t.  It was like trying to swim with an anchor tethered to my foot.
Walking back to my dorm, the bright sun and mild winks mocked me. It was like they were saying, “It’s a beautiful day, stay outside! Oh wait, you have a huge, unstarted assignment worth 50% of your grade.”
I plopped into my shoddily put together Ikea desk and stared at the blinking cursor on my computer screen, half expecting the paper to write itself. My mind was a ghost town. No ideas came to me. No existential questions posed themselves. Nothing! After five episodes of “Chopped” on Netflix, a small, but crazy idea crept into my barren brain. Could I? No. Should I? No, I really shouldn’t. As time ticked on and seemed to accelerate, the idea grew more and more sane.  I had nothing left to do, but execute it. I sent the document to my professor. It took very little time to proofread. In fact, it took no time at all. The paper was blank. I wasn’t crazy. This was existential. Professor winthrop said it himself, “nothing is everything is disguise.”
My stomach did acrobatics all night as my restless self worried more and more. I’m going to fail. I’m going to fail, and my career as a philosopher would be ruined.
The morning’s smug fingers of sunlight poked me through the blinds. I dressed in a baggy grey sweatshirt and black leggings. Under-eye circles, a common accessory for a college student, refused to be covered by concealer. First class of the day: Existential Seminar.  I walked into the lecture hall, but everything inside of me wanted to run the other way. Just like a nightmare, Winthrop said, “Ms. Collins, may I see you for a second?”
Oh, no. Here it goes. My heart raced and my palms moistened, the pink chiffon lotion coming off with the sweat.
“Your essay… It’s genius!” He exclaimed.
What?! No. He’s being sarcastic, it wasn’t even an essay. I wrote nothing.
“You incorporated one of the key themes of this course, the concept of substance. Excellent work.” He congratulated.
Well! I guess I do have a knack for existentialism! I took my seat, beaming from the inside out. Not bad.