I never know when the fog will come.
There is no warning.
No reason.
No mercy.
I get stuck in a moment of hazy confusion—
This doesn’t make sense.
This can’t be me.
I’m lost in the thickness,
The air too heavy to move through.
Nothing is clear.
Everything feels wrong.
Voices swirl around me,
Telling me what I need to do.
So many things to remember.
So many things I’ll forget.
My cloudy mind searches for a clearing.
But the path back disappears.
The fog will lift soon—
I just need to wait.
I tell myself that.
But even waiting feels impossible.
I can’t respond.
I missed their story.
I have nothing to say.
My gaze was there,
But my mind was gone.
How do I survive in this world
If I can’t calm the storm?
I wish I could hide.
I wish I could escape.
I wish I was normal.
I wish I wasn’t foolish.
Then—
the fog begins to lift.
Reality returns.
The world reappears.
And I see the face in front of me.
Someone who is still trying to connect.
Someone who is offering something real.
And I’ve already missed half of it.
I feel like an awful person—
Because I didn’t listen.
Because I couldn’t stay present.
Because I wasn’t enough.
They’ll think I don’t care.
They’ll stop trying.
They’ll find others.
They’ll leave.
And I will hate this part of me.
I will wish it gone.
I will miss all the moments
I lose to the fog.
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