The last week of a term puts me in a fog. My mind is muddled, marginally messier than it's usual sharp snaps. I can see anything, guided only by the weight imposed on my shoulders to keep going despite my fear and world-weary body.
I long for a single ray of sunshine to cast its beam across my face. I long to know and remember that there is something out there other than the haze of a stretched mind. I long to see what's out there, but I am trapped in the fog and I cannot see the way out.
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РазноеEntries from my free-write notebook. Mostly musings, periodic poetry, rarely real events. An escape from the real world, a door to my head.
