The Haze

It came back.

I’m not sure how.

I’m not sure when.

It could’ve started when I lost my best friend.

Or when the love of my life no longer wanted to be mine.

Maybe when I couldn’t afford to feed myself for a few months.

Maybe it was a combination of everything.

There’s only one thing I know for sure,

It’s back.


The haze.

The haze that moves in like a sickening fog

Covering everyone and everything I’ve ever loved

Skewing my vision.

The haze that wraps me up like a soft blanket

But I feel no comfort or solace.

Just colder


This dream state of emotionlessness smothers my every move

My every expression.

I feel nothing.

I want nothing.

I am nothing.

Everyone’s presence exhausts me.

How can I seem interested in their stories when mine is just a bundle of blank pages?

I’ve lost myself.

Faded out of my own story.

And the one thing remaining?

The haze.


A storm will come.

Clean out every crevice until the haze is diffused into nothing.

That’s what happened before.

So I sit.

And watch the clouds.

Waiting in painless agony

for that very

first

drop.

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