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A wispy trail of smoke dances on my lips as I let the drag of the cigarette I just took fall out of my mouth instead of making a decisive action whether or not to finish inhaling or blow the smoke back out. You'd think I'd have better things to do than pay attention to such a simple act. You'd also think I'd have better things to do than realize I just wasted a few moments paying attention to said simple act.
I make a decision and blow out the smoke only to take another drag. Looking about; I realize how artistic everything seems. Artistic? Maybe a little cliché. I've been standing in this park for awhile now. Looking for a way to escape my apartment... looking for a way to spend a little time with myself. Getting away from the noises. The voices. The sadness. But there's humor in that. The humor is that the voices don't go away. The noises don't go away. I close my eyes and allow myself to listen.
“It's such a beautiful night... thank you for taking a walk with me.” says a nearby female voice. I can hear the footsteps of her and her partner as they walk by and yet they pass by without a pause in their footsteps to show any recognition that I'm in their vicinity. The footsteps continue down the paved sidewalk until the sound can be distinguished as being beyond the light posts and into the shadows beyond.
I take another drag of my cigarette and I can feel the burning from the embers of it draw closer to my face. A voice fades in right next to me as if someone had slowly turned up the volume on a stereo. “... and it's not always going to be this way. If you ever need someone to listen, I'm here...” and the voice fades out again. I smile to myself and toss my cigarette to the ground; crushing it quickly so that I can light up another cigarette. I knew that voice was for me. But, sometimes it's hard to see where the voices come from.
For the duration of my memory; I've always known who I was. A soul trapped in between worlds. It's often you hear stories about spirits who are trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead. I reside between those two worlds... the world of the living, and the world where the dead are trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Not even a being of life or death or even mid-death. An abnormality. An anomaly. A glitch in the system. Amazingly enough, even with such dejected thoughts; being an “accident” in life never has been part of them.
I take a long drag from my cigarette, listening to the soft crackling noise that comes from it and blow out the smoke. This time with the thought of wanting the smoke to get away from me. I know it's not good for me... but neither is allowing myself to remain in this state of being without searching for a solution. I've been doing that also for the duration of my memory; accepting that I can't be one or the other. As easy as it would be to slip into one of those worlds without causing a commotion; like most people, I find it easier to succumb to my own self pity. It's easier to appreciate your own angst than it is to appreciate things that resolve it. Selfishness is your escape route from reality.
I close my eyes and let the winter night air attempt to create a glaze of frost on my skin. I'm startled by the sensation of hand on my left shoulder. I look over and I see a familiar face. One from one of the worlds I've attempted to join on many occasions. On that face is a familiar smile. I recognize him. Then I hear a voice to my right, “If those don't kill you, I'm going to. Put that out.” To my right, another familiar face with that familiar mischievous look in her eyes. I put out my cigarette because I know that she's not kidding. She wouldn't kill me; but the guilt of loyalty and kindness would. From behind me, another voice... a kindred of blood that isn't my own. I can feel my eyes ache and swallow tightly, knowing full well what would follow if I didn't stop that emotion in it's tracks.
I close my eyes again to suppress any tears that might try to escape. I open my eyes and there I am again; standing alone in this park that has been my escape so many times. I love it here; especially at night. It gives me a chance to escape. A chance to escape from myself and my selfishness; and to appreciate the things in my life that help keep me grounded to either world... or in all actuality, to keep me tied to both worlds. Sometimes it's not so bad being trapped in between worlds... because it lets me be unrestricted. It lets me have an identity that separates me from becoming another voice in a seemingly endless chorus of mundanes.
More voices fade in; further away this time. “Remember this spot? This is where we first met...” Another voice, delicate and small replies, “How could I forget... I love you...” and the voices fade out as quickly as they arrived.
I am a ghost by choice. Not a ghost of someone deceased; but a ghost of someone reborn into a world that won't have him... that happens to be inhabited by a very select group of individuals that will. People who own a fragment of my soul; that can easily return that fragment and release me from the very world that doesn't want to keep me.
A car alarm goes off with it's rhythmic and irritating honking pattern for a few moments before it cuts off with a computerized “beep”. “Leave my fucking car alone!” shouts a voice from the street. I smirk to myself. Mundane.
I take the last cigarette from my pack and light it. I take a drag and then say quietly, “It's such a beautiful night... thank you for taking a walk with me.” I smile to myself because I know that as much as I'm surrounded by voices that I can't help hear; my voice can be heard as well by those who have become a part of this ghost's life. Oxymoron but effective. The sound of my footsteps can be heard fading away as I walk away into the shadows to rejoin my reality.
I make a decision and blow out the smoke only to take another drag. Looking about; I realize how artistic everything seems. Artistic? Maybe a little cliché. I've been standing in this park for awhile now. Looking for a way to escape my apartment... looking for a way to spend a little time with myself. Getting away from the noises. The voices. The sadness. But there's humor in that. The humor is that the voices don't go away. The noises don't go away. I close my eyes and allow myself to listen.
“It's such a beautiful night... thank you for taking a walk with me.” says a nearby female voice. I can hear the footsteps of her and her partner as they walk by and yet they pass by without a pause in their footsteps to show any recognition that I'm in their vicinity. The footsteps continue down the paved sidewalk until the sound can be distinguished as being beyond the light posts and into the shadows beyond.
I take another drag of my cigarette and I can feel the burning from the embers of it draw closer to my face. A voice fades in right next to me as if someone had slowly turned up the volume on a stereo. “... and it's not always going to be this way. If you ever need someone to listen, I'm here...” and the voice fades out again. I smile to myself and toss my cigarette to the ground; crushing it quickly so that I can light up another cigarette. I knew that voice was for me. But, sometimes it's hard to see where the voices come from.
For the duration of my memory; I've always known who I was. A soul trapped in between worlds. It's often you hear stories about spirits who are trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead. I reside between those two worlds... the world of the living, and the world where the dead are trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Not even a being of life or death or even mid-death. An abnormality. An anomaly. A glitch in the system. Amazingly enough, even with such dejected thoughts; being an “accident” in life never has been part of them.
I take a long drag from my cigarette, listening to the soft crackling noise that comes from it and blow out the smoke. This time with the thought of wanting the smoke to get away from me. I know it's not good for me... but neither is allowing myself to remain in this state of being without searching for a solution. I've been doing that also for the duration of my memory; accepting that I can't be one or the other. As easy as it would be to slip into one of those worlds without causing a commotion; like most people, I find it easier to succumb to my own self pity. It's easier to appreciate your own angst than it is to appreciate things that resolve it. Selfishness is your escape route from reality.
I close my eyes and let the winter night air attempt to create a glaze of frost on my skin. I'm startled by the sensation of hand on my left shoulder. I look over and I see a familiar face. One from one of the worlds I've attempted to join on many occasions. On that face is a familiar smile. I recognize him. Then I hear a voice to my right, “If those don't kill you, I'm going to. Put that out.” To my right, another familiar face with that familiar mischievous look in her eyes. I put out my cigarette because I know that she's not kidding. She wouldn't kill me; but the guilt of loyalty and kindness would. From behind me, another voice... a kindred of blood that isn't my own. I can feel my eyes ache and swallow tightly, knowing full well what would follow if I didn't stop that emotion in it's tracks.
I close my eyes again to suppress any tears that might try to escape. I open my eyes and there I am again; standing alone in this park that has been my escape so many times. I love it here; especially at night. It gives me a chance to escape. A chance to escape from myself and my selfishness; and to appreciate the things in my life that help keep me grounded to either world... or in all actuality, to keep me tied to both worlds. Sometimes it's not so bad being trapped in between worlds... because it lets me be unrestricted. It lets me have an identity that separates me from becoming another voice in a seemingly endless chorus of mundanes.
More voices fade in; further away this time. “Remember this spot? This is where we first met...” Another voice, delicate and small replies, “How could I forget... I love you...” and the voices fade out as quickly as they arrived.
I am a ghost by choice. Not a ghost of someone deceased; but a ghost of someone reborn into a world that won't have him... that happens to be inhabited by a very select group of individuals that will. People who own a fragment of my soul; that can easily return that fragment and release me from the very world that doesn't want to keep me.
A car alarm goes off with it's rhythmic and irritating honking pattern for a few moments before it cuts off with a computerized “beep”. “Leave my fucking car alone!” shouts a voice from the street. I smirk to myself. Mundane.
I take the last cigarette from my pack and light it. I take a drag and then say quietly, “It's such a beautiful night... thank you for taking a walk with me.” I smile to myself because I know that as much as I'm surrounded by voices that I can't help hear; my voice can be heard as well by those who have become a part of this ghost's life. Oxymoron but effective. The sound of my footsteps can be heard fading away as I walk away into the shadows to rejoin my reality.
