In a Cloud

I’m not sure how I am or even where I am, as I exist in some cloud suspended between yesterday and tomorrow.

I’m not sure what it is I am feeling. I’m just aware of the day passing by in a blur of robotic activity and me trying to keep pace. And I’m cognizant not of my body or myself in space; but only of a weighty mass in the center of my chest mindlessly propelling me forward… toward the future, away from the discomfort of existing now.

What is this mass? I’m not sure. It feels like sadness, but it’s silent and uncommunicative, shrugging its shoulders and curling tighter into itself when I try to prod it for information.

It just wants to be, to emit waves of fogginess upward through my brain and over my eyes and keep me in a hazy mist.

It wants the day to end, but has no plan for the evening, other than whiling away more hours in the land of nothingness doing mindless keyboard-pounding and scanning endless paragraphs of black and white without making any sense of them.

It brings me cloudy snippets of what was and what will be, but for the most part, my mind’s eye is blank. A foggy nothingness.

There’s static in my brain, but the voices — gentle, whispering, holding reminders of skills for breaking free of fog — they’re all muted.

And so I tread through the murkiness, trying to still tell that Self all concealed under swathes of gray cotton that maybe it’s just a therapy hangover.

Maybe something in what seemed so soothing and good yesterday upset an illusion of equilibrium, sending my innards into this disarray?

Or perhaps it’s just the lack of any tangible infliction that I can name as the trauma that had shaped me as a jaw-clenching, anxiety-driven, confused creature trying to find her footing on this unfriendly earth.