The Fog

Dear Delyara, Some days, I wake up and the world is just... gray. There is no reason for it. I have a good life, a warm bed, and people who love me, but the fog doesn't care. It sits on my chest and tells me that everything is pointless. I used to fight it with anger, but tonight, I’m trying something new. I’m sitting with the fog. I’m writing to it like an unwanted guest. I am admitting that I am not okay today, and strangely, saying that makes the gray feel a little lighter. I am leaving my "perfect" mask here. It’s okay to be a person who struggles with the dark.