Deepest Inner Thoughts

Little ghost reminder! For anyone who may be having a tough time right now!

Sometimes there is a dull pulse in my ears which speaks of the absurdity of gravity: how all things must eventually fall, like apples, like arrow-shot birds, like people who’ve climbed to the top. It is as much a scientific fact as it is a personal doomsday clock (in fact there is a good deal of overlap between the two). But when you bear the responsibility of loving something, you cannot particularly afford to fall. It’s about pride. Or maybe pride is the bandaid-word for shame. Either way, your eraser parodies of Roman dictators are still waiting for you to come home, so come home you must.

But yes, some days, you will not want to come home. For instance, the day you come to the realisation that you exist purely as a convenient concept to most people you know is possibly crushing, depending on the person who inadvertently induces this realisation. Doomsday science pulls you back down to Earth—after years of believing that you’re more than just a figment of other people’s imaginations, your feet finally touch the ground. There is soil caught uncomfortably between your toes. Most people will never know this. In fact, you understand now that most people probably forget you even have toes.

I really believe now that to him, I’ll always be 17 years old, bright in useless ways and clumsy with my mouth and heart and hands. Forgiving to a fault, laughably predictable, and always, always beneath him. And I believe now that to them, I’ll always be a female option before I am my own person. It will never matter to them what I like to read or what keeps me awake at night or what that idiotic crystal meant to me when I was ten. And I believe now that to them, I am just an accommodating, one-dimensional idea attached to a four-syllable word.