I see the world through a vision of blur.
The clouds have covered the sun, though perhaps my mind has done it, not nature herself. Then, the sun comes out, but blurry she is. A murky grey filter has closed over my life, and I’m not sure how to deal with it.
Murky grey is waiting. My knee bounces, and my fingers frantically type, hoping for some change. I find myself searching the same letters, in the same order each day. Some keys click crisply, while others clack, stuck with the essence of murky grey. I press my enter key. With the click of a few buttons, I see it: no change. I am biding my time, though not by choice.
I wait, and wait, and wait.
Murky grey is indecision. It haunts me every day. Murky grey whispers in my ear: “Kiera, you need to figure this out.” I know, I know, and I know. I’m trying, I swear. How am I supposed to know what I am meant to do? That is an answer murky grey cannot give me. It sits in silence, clouding my judgment, telling me all the things I don’t want to hear. My mind battles with itself. Which choice is right?
I wait, and wait, and wait.
Murky grey is deception. It tempts me with thoughts of the future. It opens up the clouds into glimpses of sunshine. It inhabits my Pinterest; it inserts itself into my TikTok algorithm. It shows me everything that could be. It tricks me. I press the favorite button and save it to my board. It tricked me again. Murky grey resurfaces, over and over again, providing the screen to the projector that is my decision for the future. Big flashing letters fill the screen, warning me of the little time I have left, but it feels like an eternity and a blink of an eye.
I wait, and wait, and wait.
Murky grey is a distraction. My world is blurry and unclear—both those words mean the same thing, but I feel the need to repeat. Murky grey is making me forget what I have already written and what I have previously thought. It is seeping into areas of my life it has no business being in. I need to rid myself of murky grey, but I cannot.
I wait, and wait, and wait.
I have been waiting for weeks, months, years. Every touch of my pencil to paper and opening of my computer has led to this moment. Yet, here I am, in a cloud of murky grey, unable to see the end. My vision is clouded, with no glasses that can clear it.
I wait, and wait, and wait.
Murky grey is my enemy. I cannot wait for the day that it leaves me, whether it be hours, days, or weeks away. My greatest hope is that the murky grey is gone soon. I hope to see the sunny skies without the mask of murky grey.
I wait, and wait, and wait.
