conversations with a ghost: midnight thoughts

in a small house on the countryside a ceiling fan spun and spun and spun, its plastic blades spreading the cold air across the very warm and small room. the room’s walls were painted a dark blue, with The Smiths posters hung up all over them. the posters shook as the bed’s twin sized mattress covered with black sheets creaked as he tossed and turned.

in another room just outside a big city, lay a stuffed teddy bear, fluffed up and held by her. the fluffy light green blanket was wrapped around her cold body as she tried to warm up. her room was painted white with pastel purple stripes running down the walls. a delicate white bookshelf with Lana Del Rey vinyls were displayed right next to her bed.

in each room, both pairs of eyes stayed open, staring out the bedroom window. his brown irises and her green irises gazing in thought. the moon’s radiant light shining through the glass as their mind’s thoughts were like floating clouds, coming and going:

 

do the expectations that surround me dictate my actions a lot?

nothing is inherently me

i think i just want to make the people in my life proud

 

do you just think you’re going to stay the same forever?

maybe you’re intellectual, too, then.

you don’t have a good relationship with yourself.

my subconscious affects my consciousness

my identity is my consciousness

how would you express your love to a random stranger?

i fall in love with somebody every day.

i’m so, like, enthralled by them

it tastes so good, but I know it’s bad for me

i only feel this exhilarated when I’m with this person

but I know it’s gonna hurt a lot

we fall in love with people, not identities

 

what are you worried about?

death terrifies me

i thought I was gonna get sent to hell

impending doom is the right word.

i get like a random crushing weight, and I can’t do anything about it.

 it tears you up inside. yeah,

it’s the worst feeling ever. 

and it’s inescapable.

death terrifies me

 

speak or to die? speak? speak.

do you think it’s a finite thing? love?

love changes the way you feel about time

i mean i can’t wait to be a dad

 

what does it mean to be human for you specifically?

everything has been painted onto me. 

all my experiences. 

the only thing about me is my canvas

it is our choices that show what we are, far more than our abilities. 

humans are more intrinsically manufactured for, like, passion

i think humans are innately good.

and, as soon as you stop feeling, you die. or a part of you dies

to be human is to be grateful

its to be successful

to laugh, to cry, to love.

when were you last carefree?

people box themselves in 

and i was shaped by expectations

so careerism is sort of lame to me

i think success  for me is measured by others’ validation

they don’t give themselves the capacity to ever fall in love with anyone else

its a literary crisis of faith

the earth is changing constantly

and i don’t think any of that dictates why I think I’m a good person

why do you have social biases?

everything kids do is either to explore the world around them or experiment with power

I think humans are naturally inclined towards power

humans, I feel like, aren’t killing to survive

but also, nothing is authentically really good and bad

 

judgement… judgement?

i think judgment is important

but i’m also scared of others perceiving me wrongfully than what i actually am.

i don’t want to be remembered in a way that’s, like, um, a false me, a projected me, and idealized me

although i hope i will be successful

it should wholly be about the moment i’m living in.

it’s like you can’t live by someone else’s words

 

did you lie?

i was as honest as I could be.

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