A short bit I wrote about nothing. It's a little angsty. Critique and constructive praise is appreciated.

She walked there. No, she didn't walk. Walking implies careless feet slaps on the ground, arms slightly swaying at her sides. It creates connotation similar to that of 'glad'. Her feet were careful in movement, hitting precise marks and beats; her hands clenched nervously at her sides. She didn't walk, she moved. She moved there. But there isn't a place, not one she knew of. It was just a word thrown there to make the sentence sound fuller, like it had direction. That was misleading, she had no direction. She had no there, only a fickle here. She moved. Rather, it moved. It was just called a she for anatomy's sake, and even that was not concrete in its world. All of gender identities were ambiguous in its setting. It shouldn't be assigned any identity really. No name, gender, ethnicity, or country. A jumble of talents and faults, natural and acquired, hardly constitute a being. Humans had a stance—it was without opinion. It moved. Sometimes, it moved faster. It didn't move faster to get to the indefinite 'there' faster; there wasn't anything. It moved faster because it was afraid; if it didn't move faster, it might stop. Stopping would cease the little existence it had. So, it moved.