three ghosts inhabit this house, drifting along the concrete floors. we sway when the wind breaks in, shifting closer but never together. sometimes, i place my hand on the cracked walls of this house and feel for an absent pulse. sometimes, i wish we were a home. sometimes, i let the wind carry me along, coursing through the aged bitterness saturated in the air. my feet have never known solid ground, but i'm okay with that, just as long as i keep floating. the harshest reality only comes if i ever fall.
two stories intertwine with each other in this chapter, with words and paragraphs so jumbled together my brain fails to make sense of any of it. flipping through the pages, i find a tale of loneliness sneaking into my bed at night, and in another tale, he just wants to be my friend. i plow through the remains of the chapter, eager to leave the skeletons in my closet behind. but loneliness follows me into the next one, lingering in the darkest corners – he tips his hat at me, and soon his acrid love coats my tongue. so he infiltrates my heart, my mind, my soul, until i'm nothing but bare bones on the run. but if there's
one thing i know for sure, it's that i cannot keep running. these bones aren’t made for a life of fragility; this hollowness will settle if i let it stay. at some point, i'll have to stop and face everything that’s been haunting me, pulling at my every thread and begging to be heard. i'm not ready for the freefall, not ready for the silence that comes when you let the past catch up to you. all i've ever known is the chase, the thrill of escape, but i can’t keep living like this. when the dust settles and i'm left to fend on my own, i want to know all the ways i need to let go.