Ghosting

March 19, 2018
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I’ve been gone for awhile. Longer than you’ve been here on this little rock floating in outer space. There was this theory If I remember correctly that everything is made up of stardust. This theory fascinated me as a child. I wanted to rejoin the stars. Be one of them. That ended up being what killed me. I'm dead. My bones six feet under. My soul somewhere forever wandering down changing, winding, broken paths where no one would ever dare venture. My mind still wondering and stumbling blindly in the labyrinth without an exit. I’m lost. I might have even been cursed by those blinding stars. They seemed so warm and inviting at first, but now I see the truth. They were never what I thought and they never will be.


    It’s been decades since I’ve last seen light. I only see black nothingness. I'm alone. I talk to myself and my friends. They’re only in my head but they feel real enough to me. I keep to the left of the wall while I run my fingers along the brick. At least I think it’s brick. I’ve made a lot of progress and I think I'm close to the end. I’ve got this feeling of doubt though; like I know I’ll never get out of here. I keep walking though and I promised myself that I’d never give up; because one day I’ll get out of here. Even if it kills me.


    I walk in circles it seems. I sometimes see shadows slowly moving and they send shivers down my spine. I sometimes see an open grassy clearing full of the most beautiful flowers down the broken path I follow. It’s only a lie though, but I still hope every time. I started to fade about a week ago. I’ve been here for decades but my time is coming to an end. Thank god. The endless wandering and the slow-moving shadows will be gone, no I’ll be gone. I'm just a lost spirit wandering through the ever-changing forest. The forest with a mind of its own. The forest where no one dares enter for they fear for their lives. I’ve only ever seen shadows of the trees swaying back and forth with the wind, but others I can not explain. The pain of this suffering will be over within a few weeks; I'm hoping at least.


    My bones dust. My headstone cracked and forgotten with time. Vines with little white flowers grow over my grave. My casket just a box filled with dust and nothing more. My eyes used to be cold seas of ice and my hair the color of autumn, the earth’s ground of which was my final resting place; and warmth of the sun that I’ve long forgotten. I'm gone and that’s all there is left of me from fading memories. One day I’ll be forgotten just like the sun, I use to know; dreaming of the stars, the lies I believed so long ago; and the child, the one who dreamed of reaching those lies. I know I’ll be forgotten one day, and that’s okay. The world kept and will keep turning without me and that’s okay.






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