The Ghost

Staring into the face of obscurity, I find myself irrelevant. My anonymity runs so deep my mail is simply addressed to “resident.” My strong stature that once drew recognition now reeks of frailty, drawing contempt from passerby’s as they rush by me in their daily haste. My passion still burns, but my energy no longer shines. I am Nuisance, striking fear into others, for I pray upon their guilt. I am their loved one…locked away in a confused mass of cardboard pieces, block puzzles and reruns of Murder She Wrote. I have nothing but time and it creeps along, just a notch faster than standstill. I long for human contact just to break the monotony of the day. I watch you fidget with discomfort as I try to convey my bewildered thoughts. I linger at the doorway as you attempt to leave, offering nonsensical items to you in a futile attempt to delay your inevitable departure. I dread the idea of returning to my own thoughts and the non-stop chatter of the internal voice. As we say what could possibly be our last goodbye, I begin counting the minutes to your return.