This took me a lot longer than I expected to write. Only because I started writing this when I was in a better place with a whole different outlook on the world, a very naive view of this place. But that changed as days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and months turned me into this whole new version of myself that I never thought could exist.
Rewind to a few months ago where I supposedly had my life in order: I once had a friend (or rather, acquainted a stranger, for lack of a better word) in this suffocating, nondescript city that I honestly believed was something else; a breath of fresh air – something special.
I remember crashing at this friend’s, sorry, I meant to say stranger’s, house from being too whiskey-wasted. Ah, whiskey, the bane of my existence. It was a little night of adventure and swimming in a sea of blankets in our intoxicated state (lol oops smh).
I woke up an hour later after tossing and turning, tangled in his sheets with alcohol still rushing through my veins and decided to sneak the fuck out before I felt that all of that was real. I stole the shirt he put on me to sleep in and lost my sock in the process of it all, but I didn’t care. I wanted to leave as soon as possible.
I left before either one of us had the ability to hurt the other, before I realized this all actually really happened. The last thing I wanted was to get attached to someone who was already emotionally disconnected and seemingly – a ghost.
I smoked a lot of his cigarettes that night, so I left him a few of mine on the table and I left him a little message with the magnetic poetry I left behind on his fridge so he knew I didn’t treat him like a one night stand because I’m not that kind of person.
“See you someday, my friend. Smile.”
And I snuck out.
How do you go about writing something that was only a small palpitation in amidst the several beatings of an intoxicated heart? Almost the tiniest tremor but in that slightly terrifying moment, you thought you could die. That small frisson stopping you in your tracks and you realize that you need to take a step back, breathe, and calm down but you don’t want to. The feeling is addicting so you hope it might happen again; the adrenaline that you get from experiencing the closest thing to death but not actually dying. That’s what it felt like to get lost in him.
Let’s blame Starbucks, horror movies, a boy with unruly hair, Southern Comfort, and Jack Daniels for what you’re about to read. Whiskey – the one thing that will turn me into a version of myself I never thought existed – thank you for screwing with me this past summer. As if having me puke all over an old boyfriend’s bed (twice), breaking chairs, double fisting Jagermeister and Absolut, and jumping into a pool of Coke wasn’t enough. Thank you.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”, that’s the start of every conversation between two old, forgotten friends out there. That’s how all this shit began. Along with a stupid Facebook friend request, quite a few shots, several cigarettes, and this fucking sneaky little bastard.
I may or may not have a thing for tall boys with curly brown hair and a goofy innocent grin to complete the package. I guess the reoccurring pattern is really catching up to me and biting me in the ass. Fuck.
He was someone I knew when I was younger that I considered a friend. I barely knew him, but at that age I was too young to differentiate between a friend and someone I talked to in my classes once or twice a week. I have faint memories of laughter, pairing up for scenes during acting classes, nonsensical conversations and goodbye hugs from those far away days.
I was timid, awkward, introverted, and an entirely other human being at the time and I’m sure he was too, because meeting him again a few months ago made it seem as if I were letting a complete stranger into my life, then letting him walk right back out after he achieved some kind of goal, as if the situation that happened between us was absolutely irrelevant in both of our lives. Much to his oblivion and to mine, it was relevant, unfortunately.
You know when you notice something in someone that you don’t necessarily see in other people and it intrigues you without even realizing it? Whether it’s physical, emotional, or mental, it takes a grip of your mind and you don’t realize until you’re haunted with memories of something that you wished didn’t happen? That you were better off not over-thinking things, that you could’ve done differently to make them see that you’re not just some bitch to fuck when they were feeling lonely and horny? That a better outcome would come up if you did this or that differently?
The ‘something’ that made him different was that being around him was equivalent to taking ecstasy – the experience I had was just like a steep, bumpy roller coaster ride. I experienced an extreme high where everything just felt amazing, but once the effect wore off, the low felt like an absolute train wreck. I don’t think anyone had given me so much anxiety before in my life. This new level of anxiety opened up my eyes to how much I could really handle.
There is so much I’ve learned about myself the past few months than I have in a long, long time. I guess once your soul has been bared down to a blank space, there’s nothing to lose at that point. So it’s okay to start with a new slate and build yourself up once again into a better version of yourself, even if there’s a few bumps on the way that don’t even make sense to your old self.
I have a hard time opening up to anyone, but with the help of a few shots of hard liquor and my clouded, deluded mind, I started to spill out all over a canvas for someone to see – ghost.
You see, the thing about this ghost, was that he wasn’t fond of letting ‘new’ people in. I started to feel a little special there because he seemed to have let me in. But I just piqued his inevitable curiosity when I showcased something he wanted. Something to light a fire in his stagnant life; a temporary muse; another notch on his bed post. Whether or not those were his initial intentions, the aftermath of it all left a burning hole in the back of my head and a sickening feeling in my stomach.
The fact that I was an intriguing conquest, but not fascinating enough to hold a little longer once it was all over, not even as a friend – and I know for a fact that I make a pretty damn good friend – made my brain hurt more than it should have. No one should have the power to do that to someone.
(I can be a conquest, but that wasn’t even the beginning of it. I’m all mountains, caves and deep, dark forests with fires waiting to start with thundering downpour following. Add a few NPCs and (unnecessarily difficult) side quests and that’s basically me in a nutshell. Combine both Skyrim and Diablo and play it in Nightmare mode and wish yourself luck. Or if Ramona Flowers (Scott Pilgrim) and Clementine Kruczynski (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) became one, that would be me.)
It made me think something was wrong with me, that I’ve done something wrong, or that I wasn’t good enough. I started losing my self-worth because all I believed at that point was that I was only good for physical attraction, an empty encasement for people to lose themselves in temporarily. And the worst part of it was that I let myself fall right back into him more than once. I am much more than this whole fucked up ordeal but for some ridiculous reason, I still did it. I was self-destructive. I was becoming a person I never wanted to be. I lost respect for myself when it all came crashing down and I found myself lost in something that only existed on one side of the story.
This is probably not the only time he’s done this to someone, considering he seemed to be well aware of what he was doing, even if he acted oblivious. But let me ask you this – why? This boy could have anyone he wanted and if it was just for physical attraction, why come back to me again and again after the first time? Why not go for the next girl? Maybe I should have known better than to let him, but I didn’t. I didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t know what I’m doing. All I know is that I am a human being and that I deserve to be treated so much better than this.
I barely knew his favourite colour or how he took his coffee but I knew how his lips and hands felt and how I now have an appreciation for brown eyes because of him.
I honestly believed he was such an endearing goof.
I’m deathly terrified of becoming attached to anyone and this fucking boy – this ghost – has just worsened it even more. I never get attached to people and he almost hit that mark. But he didn’t. Thank God.
In the grand scheme of things, he has no idea that I felt like this with this stupid situation as a contributing factor. Not that he’d care anyway.
He’s most likely onto his next conquest. I just hope the next girl (or boy) isn’t as weak as I was at the time.
Of all the people to cross paths with, why did he have to cut through mine?
Ghost, if you happen to stumble across this, know that you weren’t the only thing that frustrated me this summer nor were you the only thing or person on my mind. I had other concerning things to worry about other than a boy who couldn’t even explain a reason for ghosting someone after stripping them down like that or who can’t even send a text to say, straight up, that you no longer wanted anything to do with them. Or even just text back in general. How hard is it to text someone back? And to be honest, you were probably one of the only things that made my summer relatively better, even if you were a dick (and quite a bit of a fuckboy). Thanks for helping me forget the shit going on in my life for the time I spent with you. That’s one thing I am appreciative about you for.
P.S: Can I have my magnetic poetry back? And my shorts? Copper can keep his gifts – he’s probably ate them all already, not that I mind. I hope he liked them. He was one of my favourite things about you. I hope your weeks/months have been well and hopefully you’re still not being pretty shitty to other people and not be able to explain why. Hopefully we’ll talk again as friends or maybe never talk ever again. You’re unpredictable and I can usually read people easily but you were the first person to make that the hardest task for me. I guess all those acting lessons paid off, eh?
P.P.S: See you someday, my stranger, my ghost. Smile.