Haunting Me

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Haunting Me
By Michell Storm

The ghosts that haunt us never go away. Everyday, day in and day out, they are there, though not always conspicuous. When you are alone and your mind is quiet, when your mind is ready for a respite, the ghosts slowly sneak in. The ghosts of regret. The ghosts of shame. The ghosts of loss, hurt, disappointment. The ghost of blame. The ghost of bitterness. The ghost of the one that doesn't exist. And the worst one of all: The ghost of fear.
Some days the ghosts are real. They walk with you. They talk with you. They scream at you. And you forget which world you are in. The real or imagined? Their world or yours?
How did it happen, when did it happen? Some might just call them memories, but they're not. Some might say they are demons but they are not. Demons want you to do something. These ghosts are different. They want an explanation. Why you did, why you didn't. What if you did? What if you don't? Look what happened when you didn't? They become authentic. You have conversations with them. You argue your points to them. You justify what you did or didn't do.
Why is that the right thing is sometimes the hardest? Why is it like this?
How is it that can you walk down the same path for so many years with someone and end up at some point and realize you don't know who that person is let alone who you are or how you could have ever let yourself get there. Where were the ghosts then?
Of course they were there all along. You just chose to ignore them or perhaps they chose to ignore you. In doing so, maybe they are protecting you. Maybe they are your defense, your security. I mean, after all, if they disappeared, and you actually had a restful sleep and your brain was ever quiet enough for you concentrate on something other than them, what would that be like? Would the quietness of your mind; of being alone with yourself be too much?
The thing is the ghosts never go away. You might control them, or ignore them or even deal with them in a positive way. But you'll pass them on, just as they were passed on to you. In this way the ghosts are like bags, or little trinkets. But instead of being beautiful they are ugly, but nevertheless extraordinary..
I wanted my ghosts to go away and leave me alone. I wanted them to disengage. I'm tired of them. I'm exhausted from them pulling and tugging at me and covering me. But then, I never imagined that everyone I knew would just turn, so apathetic, when I needed them. I never thought that I'd be in so far over my head that I could barely see. I never though everyone would just watch as I fell. I never thought that I'd look around and only see my ghosts.
I never thought I'd see such disregard.
But here I am now. I've fallen hard and I'm barely keeping my head above, struggling hard just to maintain and there are the times more often than not when I think I'll just let it all go.
But I can't, even when I want to. One ghost keeps me going. The ghost of fortitude.
Maybe one day my ghosts will settle down or even disappear. So long as I try my hardest not to let them overtake me and fight against them, maybe I won't pass the ghosts on to my children. Maybe the ghost of fortitude will look after me and put my separated heart back together.
And maybe someday, I'll be able to walk along the same path with someone, and my ghosts will quietly trail behind.