Brain Fog

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Brain fog—it waxes and wanes, always lurking, drowning my brain in darkness. It is stultifying. White wisps of thought drift by, vanishing as I reach out to catch them, teasing me with an echo of what might be, ghosts gliding through the ether.

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At best, brain fog is like looking at the world through a dark, heavy filter screwed onto the skewed, fuzzy, discolored lens through which I see the world.

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