small talk

I am finding it increasingly difficult to talk these days. Not to actually utter words, not to push air through vocal cords, not even to be grammatical (although still split infinitives). I just don’t know what to say. This emptiness comes over me in cycles, and I feel like everything I have to offer, conversation-wise, is shallow and boring. I hear myself blathering on about topics others can’t possibly want to know about, but I feel bound to fill the empty space. I feel bound to write this entry. To establish that I am, indeed, just fine, and even rather cheerful sometimes. And that I’m starting to talk again. In snippets, in jingles, in fast-food happy-meals, but at least I’m talking, right? Last week, in dreams, I had a parade of...

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