Keep going no matter what.

She exhaled and watched as her breath evaporated into the cold air around her. She had been walking on this road for awhile now. At least, she assumed it was a road she was walking on, the fog was so thick that she could hardly make out her feet. So thick and so cold. She wonders if it is ever going to stop. The weatherman didn’t say anything about fog. She wasn’t expecting sunshine and rainbows and ponies, but this fog was unexpected. She looks behind her, but sees nothing more than an inch in front of her. She keeps going. She lets her mind wander, trying to occupy it in an attempt to distract herself. She tries to remember what she was doing on this foggy road in the first place, but her mind is just as clouded. She can’t even recall where she was going or where she had come from. The fog is growing so dense that she can barely see her hand if she holds it up right in front of her face. Here and there she can make out a shape. The more she tries to make out, the less there seems to be. She finds nothing more than the occasional tree stump or deserted ruin, long abandoned and forgotten.


The road seems never-ending. She tries very hard not to panic. So lost, so cold, so alone. She tries to remember the last time she had felt the sun on her face. She keeps walking through the fog, stumbling once or twice. She gets up quickly, not wanting to waste any time staying in the fog for longer than necessary. ‘If only there was some sign of life out there’, she muses, ‘some proof that there was at least a little bit of sunshine at some stage. Some life. Just some indication that she was going in the right direction, wherever that was. Some sign that the sun will come out eventually and the fog will clear up’. Walking blindly through the fog terrifies her, till she keeps walking. She stumbles again and gets up quickly, for fear of what might happen if she doesn’t keep moving and stays in one spot for too long. The thought occurs to her that the fog might be moving along with her, keeping her in its centre. She decides against this line of thinking. Surely there is nothing to gain from such counter-productive thoughts.
She keeps walking, waiting, moving. Where is the sun? She is fighting to hold back the tears. Sometimes she hears music in the distance, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to get there. Tears flowing freely now. She keeps walking. Nothing else to do. She keeps walking.

Ok, so these are the thoughts that occupy my recent freak flash of insomnia. Today, eventhough I'm inconcievably much sleep-depraved, I feel alot better. Maby I just needed to vent or burst. Maybe its a hormonal thing. I wouldn't know. It's a bit manic, I admit, but I'm happy right now, and I'm clinging to my little bit of sunshine.