Silence

My silence is not exactly on purpose
Words fail me lately because I feel overwhelmed
By the uncertainty of future work
(At times by the uncertainty of the future. period.)
Some days struggling, the next ones in peace
Then momentarily "freaking out" again
Even though I know I should not worry

My silence is not entirely on purpose
I am busy or, after busy days with hours of driving,
Tired, physically and mentally
Exhausted and sleepy, thinking of writing, but
Only reading (or listening to books in the car) instead
The urgency of writing and sharing mostly gone
Since nobody seems to read anymore
(or at least to comment)

I write for myself, though,
So the silence must be broken
Words are therapeutic and heal
Or at least help make sense
Of thoughts and feelings

So here I am, breaking the silence,
Trying to find the words again
Because I must

Words are have been my friends
And when they fail me it hurts
& I don't like this dulling pain,
So I use them again

(even though what hurts the most is the keen awareness that I'm not as good with words as I wish I'd be
that, for me, is the heartbreaking part.
I write because I must, but with a painful sense of failure already)

that's why this will be unfinished
I hope to finish by living