Feeling Foggy

Here’s a fun game. Am I just in a rut or is this depression?

Motivation has been bleeding from me for some time. Not all at once, like arterial spray. Just a slow, sluggish leak that I barely notice until I look down and see all the blood. But, I can’t tell what caused me to bleed in the first place. Is it the grinding frustration at my job? Is it the stressful conversations about the future with the beau? Is it the fear that I don’t even know what I want and I’m counting down to thirty?

Or is it more insidious than that. It could be that creeping fog that clouds up my vision and makes my limbs weak, that saturates everything until the whole world is grayspace. Until I feel like I’m drowning even when the air is clear.

Regardless, writing these words is like typing on pins and needles. I keep trying to write (because I have to–it’s not a choice), but every syllable is a struggle.

I just have to keep waiting for the fog to clear.


Published by Ren Martinez

Ren is a thirty-something Lost Boy whose personal aesthetic is “suspected of witchcraft by local villagers.” She subscribes to cheerful nihilism, the destruction of the patriarchy, and the belief that glitter makes everything better. She is a Richmond-based writer and performer who has fiction and non-fiction work found in a variety of publications, such as The Mary Sue, RVA Magazine, The Quotable, and Nostrovia Press. She is currently the fiction editor and a regular contributor at Quail Bell Magazine. She is also the co-host of the podcast, This F***ing Guy! Find out more at renmartinez.com or read her dumbass tweets on Twitter @itsrenmartinez

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