Michael J. Fisher was the kind of person who would rather look out the back window during a trip than the front; he would only look at the sun when he was positive no one would see him.
the reason i haven’t been writing much (or my excuse)
i’m double majoring in creative writing and graphic design, and while i’m not taking any writing classes, i am taking art classes, so art is really taking up all my time. if you’re interested in art though, i just made a blog specifically for my art (sketches mostly)
so follow if you like. there is a lot queued now, and i post things to there a lot more than here. sorry for the inactivity, and thanks to you guys that have been sticking with me. college is crazy, and my writing is still stuck in my head. hopefully soon though. hope you’re all great. <3
Foggy
How long had it been? Days, weeks? I hadn’t spoken in so long that I wasn’t sure I was even capable. Or if I ever had been. What did a voice sound like? My curiosity had been so worn down I didn’t even take the time to figure out. I just kept the steady pace of my feet going. Where was I going again? The trees all looked the same. Green. Tall. Peaceful yet sinister. Dark. Didn’t all trees look like these trees? I was glad I wasn’t in them, just outside. I would die in those trees, of that I had no doubt. But what was so bad about dying anyways? Everyone was always dying. It couldn’t be so bad.
My feet had this patter noise it made. It sounded like rain? Or hate? What does hate sound like? I had to cover my eyes it was so bright, and I just kept going. It didn’t matter if I looked or not. I would always go the same direction. I couldn’t stop, not now. I just didn’t quite remember why. Whatever the reason, I was sure it was worth it. I’d forgotten everything for whatever it was. I wouldn’t just do that for everything.
Panic. What if I didn’t know when I came to what I was looking for? What if I never remembered anything? Where were my parents? My friends? Did I love anyone? Of course I did. I loved everyone. Or was I someone who didn’t love anyone? What happens after you die? Was I this anxious before all this? Panic. Questions. I didn’t think it would ever end. But eventually my mind went blank, like it always did. No more questions, no more panic. What was panic anyway? It didn’t sound very productive. I scratched my head.
My hair seemed long. Long compared to what, I wasn’t really sure, but it was longer than short to be sure. Because wasn’t short less hair than I had? How long has it been. My feet almost feel tired. If only I knew what that meant, I could say for sure. Does that mean they hurt? What is pain? Peaceful yet sinister? A thought that almost seems familiar, leaving me with something like an aftertaste, as though I should know something I don’t. That seems to be a common feeling. Although my mind gets pretty foggy lately.
