My Ghost

I go through my day, silent, an invisible whisp of thought. Until one of my friends brings me to life. I can’t wait until I am free of this. This feeling of being only a tiny bit of myself. When I’m not with friends, at school, I am nothing unless I hae a good day. Then I come alive, light and happy and smart. I can already imagine myself, living elsewhere. When I go to the mall, or am home alone, I feel like that freedom is within reach. I watch, at school, all the pretty people. I see those subtle festures that show their true feelings. The masks that people wear.

I write so I don’t cry. So I don’t burst out in anger at people. This is my escape. My way of dealing with things.

Some days I’m such a wreck that my eyes fill with unprompted tears. I feel only living truly alone, or with someone I love, will be good for me. Someday I will own a ranch, in the mountains or near the sea. And I will have horses. Beautiful, calm horses. Maybe one with no end of patience. And when the bad thoughts start go to them, love them, groom them, ride. Something of that nature. And the house will have a cat or two roaming around. The man I love as well. He’ll be sweet and ready to talk about my day until I’m ready to talk about his. Or his first. It will cheer me up.