Fog always puts me in a bad mood. It reminds me of that place, and God knows I would rather remember anything but that.

I also hate the way it soaks into your clothes and makes everything so hard to see. It’s like the world around you becomes one big illusion. I hate it. I’m cold and I can’t find my way back to my bike, and I’ve just run into a tree. Right now I hate trees too; always jumping out in front of me like that.

For a moment I think I’m back in that place. There were a lot of trees there, too. But I’m not. I know that’s impossible. Something inside of me just knows; knows that that’s not true. Even though I really don’t know where I am.

The world is silent here, but the ticking sound in my mind is still there, of course. That clock in my head keeps ticking away, counting down the seconds, minutes, hours, days, years that I have left to live. It never goes away, and never will. I know that.

Tick, tick, tick.

For a second I think I miss you, but I know that’s not true either.