A Ghost Story, Literally.

Lintang
6 min readOct 2, 2021

--

A Ghost Story (2017) — David Lowery

You’re sleeping now. Finally. I thought.

I wonder what dream you’re entering right now. Is it beautiful or terrifying like the last one. You may not know this but you cried in your sleep a lot of times. Like the other night, I think it was 2am and you just cried yourself to sleep. At first it was a whimper, then a sob. A long agonizing sob.

I’m sorry, there’s not much I can do. I won’t and I can’t wake you up. Because if I do, you’d scream bloody murder to see what lies before your eyes and I will lose the privilege of watching you like this forever. It is rude, It’s creepy, i know. People not supposed to lurk around in someone’s bedroom, aren’t they? So with that, I’m asking you for forgiveness. But then again, I am not people. I mean I was. But I’m not anymore.

In the night like this I usually feel relieved, rain howling outside your window, the smell of its drizzles always ease you to sleep, sleeping like a child. I assume you have a wonderful day in your life outside this tiny bedroom. Maybe you nailed an exam. Finals you’ve been dreading and you spent your entire time studying, I know you don’t like studying that much, who does? But you did anyway, sometimes a little overtime, it exhaust you, studying. You fear of failing, fear of the teachers, fear to disappoint your parents at home. But you always make it. Your diligence, determination and resilience, how could it fail you? how could you ever doubt yourself?

Or maybe….you just met your friends for a hang out after months of dwelling in each other’s business. your friends and family, whose name you mentioned in your prayers, You love them a lot, don’t you?

In the night like this I am happy, because I think you are too.

But there are other nights of storm.

Nights of storm grew longer as your tears streaming down your face, and as no one answers your call, or bother to listen. One night you stop calling for them, I understand. In the world of the living, everyone has their problem. I remember the first nights I came to live in your bedroom, I thought you were kind of dumb. You’d stayed up all night, either wasting your time looking at your phone screen laughing at nonsense, throwing tweets nobody would notice or to study the ceiling. Thinking of the infinite what if(s). Or thinking about him.

You still think about him all the time, don’t you? someone you once dearly loved. Someone who left and took you for granted. Someone you put so much hope on. I heard you blame yourself oftentimes. How could you be so stupid to read the signs, that he never cared about you, let alone loved you.

If only you knew that none of this was your fault. We all defeated by love at some point in life. We could sprint miles and miles to win a person, only for them to dismiss the race. Nobody really wins when it comes to love.

Someone like you will love hard. And it breaks my heart to see that abundance of love killing you. Please, see yourself. Appreciate how she struggles to please everyone but herself.

You usually came home at 5 from school or work. As I sit in the corner of your bedroom, you came through the door. Eyes bulged and tired. Some days, I remember, you don’t bother to change or to wash up, you just hurl your body on to the bed, shove your head down your pillow and start bawling. Another time, you just breakdown out of nowhere, you can look all happy go lucky, cooking, chopping veggies while listening to rock songs, but then you stopped, you drop everything, you curled your knees and cry for hours. Some days were even worst, you thought of killing yourself. One night you reached for a kitchen knife. And I’m right in front of you, screaming my lungs out to stop you until I realize you couldn’t hear me. Sometimes I think to myself, what would happen if you do it, to slit your wrist, would you join me in the land of lost souls, would I finally meet you? or would you go straight to the afterlife, if there’s such thing. Thank God, you didn’t. Please don’t, I beg. I know how hard you thread path of thorns and pebbles in life but if only you knew death won’t bring you anywhere but to a small room belongs to a sad girl. I know so little about you. I wish I knew a lot more. Does life outside this little bedroom exhaust you so much, does it scare you, what is scaring you? the future? The past that haunts you? or the present that feels empty to you sometimes?

I know I’m not supposed to preach, what do I know? I too had a brief life. all I know is yes, life is hard. Although I had forgotten what kind of life I had when I was breathing, I have witnessed how life drives people mad. How nightmarish it can be, how much people bleed just to live another day.

But you,

you deserve more than this limbo of death I’m now living in. You will thrive in the land of the living, you are stronger than you actually think, because I watched you patch your wounds, you build a fortress out of thrown sticks and stones alone.

It’s nice to watch you like this. Your eyes don’t even twitch.

Ghosts didn’t sleep, but I dream about you and I together all the time. In another life, or in another chance, I wish I could join you sleeping. Next to you maybe. We could accidentally meet in a coffee shop where I ask for your name and number, and we would be friends. I get to see how’s your day going outside this bedroom, And I will listen to your stories, your dreams, your distress. We would dance to happy tunes, sing to Fiona Apple while making meals together, we would Netflix ourselves to sleep. In the night of storm, I will hold you, you’d sleep in my arms and I promise to be a good company, so you won’t through it alone like you always thought you are…

There are times when I thought you can feel me. Feel my presence. I know you believe in the things you can’t see with your bare eyes. Like how you believe in God. Yesterday, I thought you hear me giggle when I watch you dropped the egg, or I thought you can feel the chill when we were standing too close. I’d like you to see me, I do. If only I don’t have this monstrous appearance. If only I was a flawless flesh and bone like you.

But right now, I’m happy to see you like this. I know you will age, you will move to another place while I’m stuck here with another tenants whose life is boring, that person could be a 40 years old bald man who loves to watch porn and spit profanities while chugging beer,

but I’ll be thinking about you every day. I’ll pray that you will finally bloom in life, and heal from the wounds and find someone who will spare his time to study the ceilings with you at 3 am, and this time not for stressing out about what if(s) but to dream and to plan life together.

And then when the time comes, you will die peacefully in your sleep after tucking your grandchildren to bed.

But until then,

Goodnight. Sleep tight.

--

--

Lintang
Lintang

Written by Lintang

a dentist who writes her heart out. [She/her]

No responses yet