Mum.

i have found myself to be speechless but not in a beautiful way. my silence is not poetic.

most days i find my friends outside having a cigarette and i join them. i listen to their stories and laughter and smile with them. and when i stand to leave i realize, the smoke still swirling in my lungs and the butt smoldering on the ground, i did not say a single word.

perhaps i use the smoke to suffocate my speech, i inhale so i do not have a chance to utter a sound. i watch on the way the tobacco burns so i do not have to make eye contact. i exhale smoke in place of speech.

i am losing my words.

somebody asks me how i am, and my throat closes in panic. my brain stresses itself to find a word that even comes close to describe the feeling of non-feeling. i finally answer with a shrug and a noncommittal noise that doesn’t mean anything. which is perfect, because i don’t mean anything.

i am becoming nothing.