A Letter From The Ghost of You

Redd Angelo
Redd Angelo

Hello, I am the ghost of you. I am the forgotten phrase of your favorite book, the passing moment of a seemingly ordinary day. I am you entirely, but I am the you forgotten.

I am the shadow of you, hiding beneath as you fondly bask in the light of each day. I am the essence of all that is pure and innocent inside you. But I am also the murderous thoughts you hide and every bad deed you conceal. I am the you abandoned.

I am words suppressed, a clicked tongue battling between making your opinions known or merely keeping quiet. I am your clenched fist when you are exasperated, trying to control the tantrums that once ruined your relationships.

I am the beast inside the cage within you, trying the best to be less volatile.

If you are still wondering who I am, let me elaborate. I am you. Not your conscience, not a voice inside your head nor a figment of your imagination. I am what constitutes every atom of who you are, but you, for all the good and bad and trials of this earth chose to forget and abandon me in hopes of finding a better you, one that society does not criticize for all its faults and imperfections.

I am who you truly are, soul born from a vast universe in which you are a part of  but always fail to see. I am the you you have replaced with your earthly mask worn for the people who don’t even matter. Ah, but I am so many things. And no matter how hard I try to explain, I am but a dusty box of forgotten memories inside the attic of your abandoned home.

Despite years of being ignored, know that I am the glance in the window when you are concentrating on something uninteresting. I am the gust of wind that comes while you drown in the heat of midday, the drop of water that falls on drought-cracked earth, the first whistle of the kettle when the water boils, and the final sip of cold coffee you left waiting.

The thing is, I try to squeeze myself through the waves of silence enveloping you, the smiles and compliments shot towards you, and the little laugh you try to hide when you find an intellectual joke funny, when others cannot understand. I try to squeeze myself into those little moments in hopes of you finally noticing me.

I am the sound of pages flipping as you read through fiction (something I liken to the life you are living right now.) I am the creak of your door when you come home from an exhausting day. I am the shadow that hugs you when being home is unbearable, and I am the streetlight that shines on you as you sit alone, listening to the echoes of past arguments and lost childhoods.

I am the ghost of you trying to make myself known, clutching your hand through each wave of emotion you always keep to yourself.

So when your legs are weary and your burden is heavy, remember that my presence is permanent. I am the firmness of the handshake when you received your diploma, the memory of who was once your favorite person, and the smile of a random stranger.

I am the good and the bad. I am what fills you and what deprives you of so many things. I am doing so in hopes of you remembering me. Not as the version of yourself you are trying to hide but the version of yourself you once loved most. I grieve at the trials that made you forget me, cry at the people who have made you change who you are, and keen at the thought of your melancholy.

Believe that the past cannot weigh your future down and you are not every failure and mistake you have committed. I am what constitutes your beautiful soul and I do not deserve to be ignored. I am the cradle from which you were rocked and I will be the last blooming flower on your grave. And whether or not it is clear to you, I have a right to be here.  TC mark

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