There’s been a lot of fog here of late but whether I’m talking metaphysically or not is for you to decide!  Days that don’t even dawn, just a lightening of the grey swirling cloud that has descended to roam our streets, chilling our bones and refusing to let any washing dry.  Fog which eats away into your bones, nibbles into your soul and leaves you damp and wretched.  Fog which is palpable and wafts drifting mizzle across the hillsides.  Fog which closes down every horizon, enveloping every building and creature in its damp, clinging and inescapable embrace.

I don’t like fog.

Fog is November days, where the glory days of autumn slide away into the dank decay of early winter.  Fog is a pessimism that leaves you empty and hopeless.  Fog is not spring.  According to my calendar it is spring.  Apparently.

For two weeks we have slumbered and shivered under this pervasive cloud, it has felt like the beginning of winter all over again.

Admittedly on a few days by afternoon the sun has won through, penetrating the gloom and ushering in glorious afternoons which on a few occasions have felt deceptively summer-like.  Then the fog descends again.

I don’t like fog.

The weather’s moods reflect in my own, it is harder to be cheerful and upbeat (especially when it doesn’t come naturally to my chemicals) when the seasons revert five months and you wake each day to fog.  Then there have been other challenges to my mood, I’ve had to be busy with various things and there’s been a lovely bundle of stresses to deal with.  These all combine and load me down, I just want to hibernate but there has been little rest, little respite.  Busy, busy.  Stress, stress.

I don’t like fog.

My head is weary and overloaded, at the moment I really struggle to concentrate on and to co-ordinate more than one thing at a time so this month has really been pushing it.  I snatch moments of rest at odd times but my mind never switches off, a week of insomnia adds to the burdens and the increasing fatigue.  I get confused and overwhelmed, things are at best neglected or worst, forgotten, and I feel the control slipping from me again.  Did I ever have it?  It all requires so much focus and drive and concentration, I don’t have these things for so many reasons.

I don’t like fog.

6 thoughts on “Fog

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    1. I think that I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s nice in small doses in appropriate places and seasons. I do like how it makes the world so quiet too though! Thank you. :)

  1. I don’t like fog either. I do like the repetition of “I don’t like fog” — it adds rhythm to the piece. I also hate that feeling of losing control of something you once had — surely had — did I ever have? — control of. Hang tight. It DOES lift. Eventually.

I'd love to know what you think, concrit is especially welcomed on fiction pieces. Thank you.

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