Fog is, to be blunt, amazing and horrible at the same time.
Being in fog feels like you’re in Minecraft with your render distance, or how far you can see in the virtual world, turned down to four chunks — a very short length in Minecraft.
In the morning, you feel refreshed as your body is awakened by the cold, damp air after a groggy five hours of sleep. However, miniscule water molecules in the fog weigh you down, making you feel twice as heavy and lethargic. You move slowly as you struggle to wobble your way to school. Everything in life feels more difficult when you have to navigate without being able to see more than five feet in front of you. As you slide into your seat in English class to write your so-eagerly-awaited in-class essay, brain fog — yet another befuddling kind of fog — sets in, and you’re stuck staring at the screen for hours without a single word on your document.
