Through the Fog

Tag: Melancholy

  • Just Another Day

    They say it’s your day—

    like that means something

    you’re supposed to feel.

    Like candles and wishes

    are enough

    to make it matter.

    But it comes

    like any other morning—

    quiet,

    unremarkable,

    the same weight

    waiting for you

    before your feet

    hit the floor.

    Messages trickle in—

    “happy birthday,”

    short, bright,

    easy to send.

    You read them,

    type back something grateful,

    something light,

    something that doesn’t say

    how it actually feels.

    Because how do you explain

    that another year

    doesn’t feel like a celebration?

    That it feels like time passing

    without asking

    if you’re ready for it.

    Like you’re still

    the same person

    trying to figure things out—

    just older,

    just more aware

    of what didn’t turn out

    the way you thought it would.

    There’s no party

    for that.

    No candles

    for the things you lost,

    the versions of yourself

    that didn’t make it here.

    So the day moves on—

    like it always does.

    And you move with it,

    smiling when you need to,

    thanking people

    for remembering.

    But deep down,

    it doesn’t feel like yours.

    It just feels

    like another day

    you survived.

  • A Shade of Blue

    There’s a shade of blue

    that doesn’t live in the sky.

    It settles quieter than that—

    in the space between breaths,

    in the silence after a name

    you don’t say anymore.

    It isn’t loud enough

    to call itself sadness.

    It doesn’t break things.

    It just… stays.

    Like dusk

    that never quite turns to night,

    like water

    that looks still

    but pulls at you underneath.

    It shows up in small ways—

    in songs you don’t skip

    but don’t quite listen to,

    in moments that feel almost full

    but not enough to hold onto.

    You learn to carry it.

    That’s the strange part.

    Fold it into your days,

    wear it like something soft

    that doesn’t ask to be noticed

    but never lets you forget

    it’s there.

    And sometimes—

    in a flicker you didn’t expect—

    that blue

    catches a little light,

    and for a second

    it looks like something else.

    Not happiness.

    Not pain.

    Just a color

    that means

    you felt something

    and it stayed.