February 8, 2016
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Another year?
Another year has passed, well, almost. I still survive, though survival seems like it is not what most people make it out to be. Again thinking about writing. Writing about good times and bad. Maybe some poems that I have written. Maybe some gibberish that someone outside the fog may understand though I doubt many will read or hear.
I'm between a few doctors on what to do about migraines. While they are arguing, I am suffering. It seems they have forgot why they became doctors, and the oath that they swore to help people. Now they are afraid of institutions that make it hard for them to do what should be done to heal, not what is done to treat symptoms.
So, now I sit in the fog again; or maybe I should say still.
The fogwalker ponders on what to do next.