I used to believe in ghosts.
Tony and I used to go ghost hunting whenever we got the chance… either formally, or sneaking off on our own to check things out.
I’m not sure if I believe in ghosts anymore.
Because, surely, if someone believed in ghosts, went looking for them… died a horrible, traumatic death with unresolved issues…. Surely they’d come back, in some form? An entirely stupid thing to think about, I know. But think about I do.
I wish I still believed, the way I used to. I see shadows and flickers from the corner of my eye. It’s just tricks of the light.
I feel a presence around me, some days… it’s the brain’s psychological coping strategy. I wish life was like the movies, that there would be some kind of romantic, life affirming interlude from beyond the grave… but I know there won’t be.
If there are ghosts, I wish he would haunt me. Either because he hates me, or he misses me, either way is OK… I’d just like to see him again.