Invisible Illness

By Ivana Devcic

Oh, this shroud that follows me

Looming beyond reach

I cannot remove it

I cannot look through it

For it obscures me

I walk always in the fog

Lost despairingly on the moor

And I cannot dispose

Of this demon

Who haunts me

Forever more

Usually cleaning that annoying smudge on her glasses. Ivana regularly has existential crises (if they are consistent, can they be called crises?). Typically found with a book in front of my face – a standard sign of an INTJ in their natural habitat. If lost, look near the cats or salted crisps.

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