Sherlock had once said, “There are no ghosts. Save the ones we make for ourselves.” I will tell you one thing: I believe in paranormal activities. I believe in spirits, ghosts, God, the supernatural, everything. But clearly Sherlock didn’t. And I do somewhat agree with him. There are ghosts that go beyond the supernatural and reside deep in our minds. Life, as said by many, is a journey. It’s your story. And as you go on, grow older, you experience new things, new emotions, new feelings. You learn. Sadly, not all lessons are to be cherished. You can’t put every experience of yours in the same section with that of memories of wonderful days watching the cherry blossoms. Some, a few and maybe even many experiences go in a sealed box. They go in a strong vault. They’re the ones that stab you. They pierce you. They’re the ones you wish you didn’t have. They’re your ghosts. They haunt you. They may be wailing in their voice that makes your ears bleed from the top of the tower that you locked them in. They may follow you around, making you look back at them from time to time and giving you a well-practised smile that reeks of fake innocence. They may even give you jump-scares. They may pounce onto you. Everybody has them. Nobody wants them. Some people need them.
I’ll tell you of my strongest ghost. She haunts me. Yes, she. Do I want her? No. Do I need her? Maybe. I won’t be dropping names. I can just say that she was named after a heavenly body. So bright, beautiful and completely wasted on her. She was manipulative. You would know of that months after she’s gone. And she’ll keep surprising you. The girl’s liquid. She’ll take any form that she may have to in order to fill an empty space in your life. But she’ll slowly seep through you. She’ll take control, or try to.
She’s pretty. But that wasn’t any of my concern. I don’t care what people look like, most of the time. So what lured me in? Her habits. Or maybe they were her facade, a play. See, she was playful. She was friendly and funny. That’s how she seemed in the beginning. She was so untouched by the hectic world. She seemed so pure. She seemed like a vacation from monotone. She didn’t seem like an appendage. She didn’t seem like a leech, to be honest. She didn’t look like a vampire. She seemed like sunshine, not a ball of fire. With her curly brown hair and giggles, with her skipping and immature nature, you get this sudden urge to protect her. Everything she says becomes true. Your brain flies out of the window of the topmost floor of a skyscraper. She’s one of those people to think that the world is against them and it exceeds teenage rebellion. You don’t even stop to think why she would think as such, if she really is a ball of sunshine and puppies? She can’t tolerate anyone who disagrees. She just has to be right. She just has to. And anyone who even talks about a compromise, who puts forward their opinion is “mean”, “fake” and her “enemy”. You’ll understand when you meet someone as such. I hope you stay in darkness.
She’s a good storyteller. She can have many versions of the same story. She can go on adding chapters. She can tell you things that you’d done that you yourself had no idea about. She can pontificate like hell. She also was a good actress. She acts like she’s so innocent. She acts like it’s all your fault. She acts like you’re insensitive, self-centered and selfish for thinking about yourself. She acts like you’ve committed a crime, murdered her. And you believe it because she’s just that good. You won’t even know when you’re being played. She’s the kind of person who’s going to make you apologise for things you shouldn’t and she’s going to use it against you. Once you care for someone, you can’t just stop. And once you realise that all this is an act, you slowly begin to stop caring for her. “Slowly” because like I’ve said before, you can’t just stop. You go in denial. You lie to yourself that there was some truth. And since she can’t let you, her spotlight just go, she accuses you. She tries to make you stay. She gets upset at you for making yourself your priority. She gets upset at you for wanting some time to process it all. She finds problems with everything because she wants to be with you all the time and you just need space. You’re just different individuals and she just can’t get that. She cries, because we’re all human and sentiment is our weakness. Because you’ll have to agree when she’s broken or she makes it seem like that. She expects you to change, to adapt according to her, but when you try to talk to her about what bothers you about her, she’ll accuse you of using her flaws against you.
But I’m not perfect either. Maybe I should have hugged her tighter. But she was pretending. She plays the victim fairly well. But I can’t stop feeling that maybe, just maybe if I had given her the closure, she would have stayed. And she wouldn’t be a ghost. She admires you. You don’t get that a lot. You don’t get an admirer, someone who fawns over you. But it’s only so long before reality bites you in the arse. You can’t always have time for make-believe and drama. You can’t always keep up with her melodramatic ways. You soon lose interest and can’t find the meaning or the reason behind all the letters, all the hour-long phonecalls. Soon, you get sick of making sacrifices that she doesn’t even acknowledge because they don’t reach her expectations. You get sick of her quotes and poetry line because sometimes you have a lot on your mind already and she never understands that. You get sick of hearing her say that she loves you, not to tell you how she feels, but solely to hear you say it back. You get sick of the lack of privacy. You get sick of how she manages to drag everyone into your mess. You hate how she won’t talk to you when you ask for space. You get sick how she gets butthurt at every little joke. You get sick of how she over analyses every word. You get sick of her constant want for attention. You get sick of it all. You just do.
In case you couldn’t tell, I’m still bitter. I’m still angry. I always will be. She’s lied to me about many things. She’s lied to me about things I am very serious about. She’s lied to others about me, making up stories. And if I were to see her, there are two things that could happen. Either I’ll turn and walk the other way or I’ll go confront her. I don’t know what she’s doing now. I just hope that she knows better than to emotionally blackmail others. I think I needed her. I don’t want her, but I needed this experience. I needed this lesson to be stronger. This has taught me not to get carried away too much. This has taught me not to lie to others, no matter what. This has taught me a lot of things.