Gone

Let's be honest: I haven't been writing. At all.
I don't know exactly why.
In some form or fashion, it's as if words have left me, angry and unused. I didn't love on them and now they are gone. And I'm going. A lot. Work has me traveling and when I'm not traveling I'm either recovering from the travel or preparing for the next trip, and while I love such constant motion it hasn't been good for me. Feels like much that I thought was certain is no longer and the constant going keeps it all in the appearance of motion. Getting laid off back in January, though for the best, shook my understandings of anything claiming certainty. I've neglected things. Most things. And I've atrophied in just about every aspect I can, becoming more insular, more selfish, more reactionary, more exhausted. I don't know how to break out of it, even as I deplore it in me. Those lost words are haunting in their absence.
I really, really need some time off, but as I'm a contracted employee I don't get paid vacation and can't afford to simply not work. I'm craving respite and peace, calming quiet and time away from electronics. I'm craving Natalie's couch.

I wonder if people having breakdowns know it's coming. I'm worried I'm approaching one.