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Ghosts of the past

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He walked down the street. He saw the people walk by but not their faces. He saw the faces from his past; the faces that haunted him every day. He saw the twisted faces of those he had hurt and the beautiful faces of the women who had hurt him. He walked into a bar, hoping to drink his problems away after a stressful day at work. He knew that it most likely wouldn’t help but he couldn’t help trying. He drank and he drank. The faces started to become fuzzy as if they were leaving but they only became more pronounced. He saw more faces. He saw the face of his 8th grade math tutor. Had that been the one who told him he’d never amount to anything or had it been his 11th grade college counselor. He couldn’t remember but so many adults in his childhood had told him he would never find himself. He had so wanted to prove them wrong but they were right. He was in his mid-thirties but he still didn’t know who he was or what he wanted. The world had seemed so fun when he was a child but as he grew he realized that just as you adapt to make life better it adapts to make it worse for you. He had stopped trying to improve his life. He had given up. He saw people smile everyday but then the faces came back. They weren’t smiling anymore, they were sneering at him. Mocking him and his pathetic life. They would never leave him and he accepted that. Maybe tomorrow would be better but he doubted it.




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