Did it all for you? Living while you were dying? Or was I dying while you were living?
Like a gale force wind, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it? We split, we shifted, we departed.
I hovered. Like a ghost with too much time on my hands and too few places to haunt, I watched.
I watched you change, in my mind, from the person you were to the person I wanted you to be, and I cemented you into place, frozen in carbonite, a vision of what could have been.
And I blamed myself.
I slept.
And when I woke, I slept some more.
And when I slept more than possible, more than I could have ever imagined a person could sleep, I sighed–
and slept some more.
I’m like a reverse shape-shifter; I shifted you into what I thought you could become, and you blinked, telling me that I was incorrect in my assumptions.
You would not be mine.
In any way, shape, or form.
So I did what any tiny ghoul would do, and ran.
I changed my identity, I chose a new face, I picked a new name, and found a new occupation. I became someone you never would have recognized.
Someone you would have stopped and stared at, someone luminous on the outside.
While the inside bit and tore, like the real me could break through and say…something.
Each day I sigh, I lose myself for a moment, closing my eyes against the pain, and pop back up for air in my brave new world.
La la la la la lies.
Vicariously, I am a wonderful person.
Sometimes I want to apologize to you, you know, for the haunting. Sometimes I want to tell you I’m sorry for burning you on the stake. Sometimes I want to grab the gun I pointed at your head and turn it on myself, hoping that the silver bullet inside will actually do something, like wake me up.
Wake you up.
Wake me up.
I tried, anyhow. But now I stay silent, I stay in place, and I try not to hurt anyone else. I try not to get hurt.
Come on, my scars have faded.
And so I listen to all of our dusty old music and remember
nothing. Nothing at all.
