I would like to speak, tell that to your counsellor. I would like to say a single word.
Unemployed and sick. Sick and unemployed, you were sent to a counsellor. I would like to speak, and in my own voice: did you tell her that?
I've been abandoned. I've abandoned myself: did you tell her that?
But who has abandoned you? Not 'I' - not you. Then how to speak, even, of your abandonment?
To be abandoned to speech - but how is that possible? To speak, to exert your pressure on the words you would say: how can you accomplish that?
Unemployed, sick, you might begin to keep a journal. But what is there to record? What is there to say? Days pass; weeks, and without event. Weeks pass - but what does the week mean to you, unemployed one?
Arbitary markers of time. Markers of what does not pass. How to write of that non-passing? How to record it, what fails to complete itself as time?
Wasn't that your cure? Wasn't that how you reclaimed speech for yourself? To write, but not to complete writing. To write as you spoke, fragmentarily, and without owning words.
Abandoned speech. An open notebook lost in the carpark. Let the sun read as it crispens the pages. Let the rain read as it blurs the ink.