At A Loss

I think before I speak, always. I self edit. I search for the right words. When I can’t find the right ones, I choose not to use any. I’d rather sit in silence than wade through words that don’t belong. So when I’m with this girl who’s going to die, I can’t find anything. I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re going through. You have no idea how strong you are. When you cry in pain I feel a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat and I can’t even begin to imagine how your mother feels. I wish I could do more for you. I think you’re funny and beautiful. I am angry for you and scared for you and sad for you. This isn’t fair. None of this is right. So I sit down, hold her hand, and breathe with her. I’ll forget about finding the words for now, and focus instead on finding the breath. It’s harder than it sounds.