Trying really hard not to slip into despair these days. I mean, with all the poverty, death, starvation, and isolation it's hard, you know? I mean it's been decades since I became a ghost, you'd think I'd just get used to being forgotten and invisible. That I'd stop wasting energy on trying to manifest or interact with my environment. I'm not angry anymore, just tired. Tired of being optimistic about things changing, of believing that someone sees me, only for them to stop. I know other people have rich, vibrant, full lives outside my haunt. I occasionally am able to leave and witness them, though those trips are becoming fewer. I see them with their friends and families, shining with life and connection, millions of brilliant sparks in the dark. My only solace is that sometimes, when I have the energy and luck, I meet a soul who's spark is dimming, and I can muster the spirit to help fan the flames back into life, keeping them from my, or a worse, fate. Sometimes it's just whispered encouragement, other times it's manifested defiance, or outright acts of intervention.
But on the whole, I am a ghost. A soul without a home, an entity out of step with reality.
