Lacking Words

I often find myself at a lack of words.

I know lots of words, I just don't often know  how to use them very well. At least not when it truly counts. Because as important at words are, I hate to use them incorrectly.

How do you tell someone they are wonderful without it sounding fake?
How do you encourage someone when they feel worthless?
How do you reassure someone when they feel their work is subpar?
How do you give direction when you  don't know half of what you should?
How do you let someone know that you are worried without it sounding reprimanding?
How do you talk to someone when your language seems completely different, even if you're both speaking English?
How do you connect with someone when you have no idea what they've been through?
How do you bless someone when your blessings feel shallow?
How do you be real with someone when false is all you seem to know?
How do you use your words to cover someone with love when you can't remember how it feels to be loved?
How do you speak when you need to say it?
How do you know you're being understood?

I have no answers, obviously. And becoming mute is not an option.

It reminds me of Etremely Loud and Incredibly Close, an absolutely beautiful book by Jonathan Safran Foer. There is a man who looses his words. It starts when he looses the woman he loves, her name was Anna. The words the leave first are the ones that sound most like her name, like and. Other words get lost, like please, thank you, door, light, love, hurt. He gets yes tattooed on one hand, no on the other. He carries black books around with him all the time, each thought or sentence getting a new page in his journal. The last word he looses is I. 

Can you imagine? How completely selfish would you feel if the only word you could utter was I? Sometimes I don't feel much different.  I, I, I, I just don't have the words to be unselfish, to know what you need and how you need and when you need.

But I suppose my lame excuse for language is better than no language at all.

Until next time.