It is been months since I last wrote something, my mind is blocked by a black cloud, a fog or by a thing that does not exist. It could be because of my busy mind, that holds on to a ghost of something, I can see it but whenever I try to hold it I can’t feel it.
My mind wants it to be real and to be here, in no time.
It can’t focus on anything except for that ghost, therefore I am losing the sense of the days, the ability to create, and breath.
It is suffocating my brain from behind, or rather squeezing on it. Squeezing the thoughts out of it, and keeping only thoughts of it, the ghost.
When I want it, it does not want me back. And when it wants me, I don’t want it. It is the various cycle I am living with it, the ghost of everything.
The ghost which my mind has become addicted to and does not seem to give up on it.
Carving a piece of me away and to the emptiness of the world, whispering in my ear, addicting and obsessing words for me to continue holding on to it.
Make up stories with impossible scenarios, living through them, laughing and crying over them, soon I realized the moment I opened my eyes, it was all in my imaginary world, opening my eyes to see the ghost smiling at me, and giving me another false hope then in a blink of an eye it is gone.
My brain is now misshaped, affecting my physical life, impacting the ability to move, in addition to a stream of headaches that don’t seem to go away.
All the ghostsBANNERS, Ghosts.
They float, float around us
How they turned all our dreams into dust.
But there is a life awaiting to be seen and to be lived behind the ghost, or rather when the time comes for it to be real.
Is there any ghost that transformed itself into reality before?
At least the ghost the is hindering me from writing is the reason why I wrote this piece, anything can be a source of inspiration if you look deep enough.
Ironically, The ghost could be the one and only reason why I am still alive, in the time I thought that I am not living.
Everyone has ghosts that are constantly haunting them, hindering them from living.
Breath in, breath out but are they living?
What it is like to be alive if we are not suffering?