9.11

Every year, September comes, and every year I think 'this year, it won't be weird. This year, the day will come and go and I won't think about it.'

Of course, it is weird. I do think about it.

Today, I lose my ability to be articulate. I forget how to say things eloquently, how to explain my thoughts and feelings using the words that I so carefully choose and so proudly master on other days.

Today, I am quiet.

Because there are no words that can say all the things that I want to say. And the sentence I would like to write--it never comes.