The ghost of me is not ugly at all, at least not to others' eyes. But mine painfully melt every single time I catch a glimpse of his being. A sheer, black cloud surrounds me and then I fall.
domingo, 23 de enero de 2011
The Ghost of Me
The ghost of me came back today. I expected him to come back with those high-pitch screeches I've always hated, but it was not so. This time, the ghost of me just stands behind me, watching my every step, whispering in my ear about the fall. I tried not looking at him, but I always end up gazing into his gray face. He then stares into my eyes, seeing the fear and darkness inside, and whispers horrible secrets that I already know. But every single time, he mentions the fall and how hard it will be.