It is a beautiful piece. Your steps remind me of my life and failures. Some ghosts seem real because they are real people with real feelings and families, children and limbs. But they aren’t , even when they want us they aren’t, even when they think they need us they aren’t, even when they scream, punch and bite. What they need isn’t us, what we crave isn’t them and the acrid bitter taste of reality will fill our mouths (and theirs) before long. What we crave is neurotransmitter high, what we imagine is long dead or never was. The high will come and the crash ever more painful. Letting go of the addiction to chaos is hard and it is easy to give up every time we fall. Because we fall, and fall and fall, but getting up hopefully will get easier at some point. Some ghosts for me even never existed, they are caricatures build with webs of words, stories and events, mixing people and reasons. I get attached to them, fed off their imagined motivations and purpose. All in my mind a reflection of my mind: all neurotransmitter addiction. Then, I just hug myself again and again until the screaming of the banshee fades in the woods.
Thank you for making me think and remember.