It was merely a Summer of interim, the space between two semesters. Two fairly important blocks of time, and between them, a unit of transition. It was fairly slow and smooth, one might even say blasé as far as summers have the potential of going.
But it was the foggy moods that plagued my mind almost constantly that summer that stood out the most, more than any events or friends or situations that threatened to define that season. They seemed to come on me in wave after wave of mind-altering haze.
Sometimes they were new and sometimes they were old illusions threatening to hold me hostage forever. How do you fight something that has housed itself in your mind, that refuses to leave, that becomes your vision, becomes a part of you, and then, sometimes, so suddenly, and only for a few flickering moments, looks so clearly like madness. Was I crazy most of the time and sane only in fleeting glimpses? Had the enemy gained ground in my own head?
I was tired of fighting...
tired...
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