Jarring Whisp

Sometimes... You think a ghost has finally passed you by. It's as if you always knew it was there, but by making eye contact it suddenly come one step closer to forming a body of flesh and bones. So eventually you learn not to trust your instincts. Even though you can feel the whisp of an attic's breath over your shoulder, you restrain yourself from turning around. And slowly those breathes become more shallow and sporadic. Out of the corner of your eye, the ghost's once white sheen has now dulled to a cloud of dust caught in the sunlight. So you ask yourself, "was I imagining things all along?" And then...

BOO!

Back from no where, a body with bones and tears in tow. Dust to flesh, ash to breath. You suddenly swing from self doubt to plain old disbelief that you could possibly think things had faded away. There's an undeniably, very real ghost in the room and you aren't quite sure what to do about it.

Someone dropped back into my life this week. Or rather, they dropped something off. I thought this person had moved on, but instead has presented me with a perplexing token of their persistence. One that didn't even ask for a response. I thought we were done and moved on, another (bizarre) chapter closed. But apparently not.

So where do you go from here? Maybe, just maybe, I'll try once more to ignore that stale attic breath breezing over my shoulder. Wait for light to fade back to dust.

And then there'll be another unwarranted token to rejuvenate the cycle. My complacency and hope of the most anti-climactic resolution possible will no doubt be a reoccurring theme. But I swear this is the last time. I don't know how to fight ghosts, whether it be to their face or through an intermediary, but I'm sick of something lurking over my shoulder or beyond a doorway. Some way or another, one of us needs to find peace. It may as well be me.

Yadda yadda Ghostbusters.
-Cril

Nine Inch Nails - 8 Ghosts I