I have no idea what I just wrote.

That’s what comes out when I sit down, wanting to write, without knowing what to say.  It’s what comes out when I think nothing, feel nothing.  When everything is taking me under.  When I can’t do it anymore.  When the grip on my chest tightens so as I feel it in my throat like a merciless noose around my neck.  I sit with the Lutheran hymns live-streaming into my ears, stare blankly at a white screen, and wait for someone to do something, think something, feel something.  Anything.

That’s what comes out when the nothing is too much.

He comes and makes something out of nothing.