The Marshmallow fog descends on me. You think I would want to let it go but I don’t.
It has been a long time since I let myself be known. I ache like one who longs for cheese cake safely put away in the freezer. It calls until one eats it piece by piece but then one gets tired of being dainty and shoves the whole thing in one’s mouth. The fog is related in ways that make your head throb like algebra when it reaches the place that you could throw the book against the wall.I digress so easily because I don’t want to tell you.
Well, let me start at the beginning. I had one thing too many happen. When the final event hit, I became like Alice descending down the rabbit hole, spinning like there was no tomorrow. When I hit the bottom and stood up, I was muffled like sound coming from far away. You strain to hear but you can barely make out words. I stayed that way as if a thousand cotton balls hit me and entwined in my internal organs.
I suppose there was a Pre Marshmallow Fog and a Post Marshmallow Fog. In the Pre Fog, I was normal. In the Post Fog, I was like a walking corpse.When the fog rolled in, it was heavy. The darkness was like melting chocolate covering me like I was in the middle of an chocolate Easter Bunny candy or chocolate Santa Claus..When I tried to leave, the doors were enclosed in chocolate, as were the windows.
That brings me to the present. The Marshmallow Fog is like a heavy blanket that may feel nice at the beginning of the night but is cloying by the end. It is like sitting next to a woman with too much perfume. I will give them dirty looks or even request that my chair be moved. It is an affront. I wish I could have moved my chair as easily from the Marshmallow Fog but it was stuck to the floor, as they used to do with children’s desks in elementary school. They wanted to keep the child from moving and disturbing the peace.
I suppose that is why the Fog came in the first place. It prevented me from disturbing the peace in the Alice in Wonderland world in which I lived. Reality was like a kailidoscope, colors turning and revolving such as to make you sick if you didn’t close your eyes. I closed my eyes. What choice did I have? It was that or insanity. The fog blankets the insanity so you have a semblance of your real self like the zombies who look human until they reach critical mass and take over the town.
I hope you don’t mind my rambling. You can tell I am trying to figure it out.The Fog is lifting these days. Under it is pain like fire, pain that shoots forth, my body rocking. I don’t know the outcome. It is an unknown destination, as they say.
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