Little moments stitched into time by the gravity of circumstance – can it be so simple? Superstitious folk considered hauntings a grievous occurrence that brought to the forefront of their lives spirituality and faith. With a the growing and recent trend of liking “I Fucking Love Science,” people have found more creative ways to explain away such apparitions – like I said, little moments, stitched into time, replaying when all those little building blocks of our reality vibrate subtly to an unusual frequency.
People find all kinds of explanations to adequately make sense of the past – me? I see them everyday. A possibility missed here, a chance not taken there, a crossroads with no meetings because of a sudden and inexplicable act of fate, a product of a million little factors that can’t possibly be controlled by one person. Phantoms of the past -they’re memories. They help us read situations, they put terror into hauntings, they put science into the superstitious – but they’re memories, all the same.
Today, the thing that makes my hair stand on end aren’t the skeletons beneath me in a graveyard, or that dark closet in an old childhood home, they are the realities I see before me, as real as they are fake, as meaningful as they are meaningless, that haunt me every day.
A lifetime of possibility before your eyes, as invisible, as uncertain, as terrifying as a spectre.
Ghosts to me are not the spirits of the dead that have come back to haunt us, but rather the echos of choices in the past we should have made. Should I have turned on this road? Maybe I should have passed on that job.
I had always believed in ghosts, even when those around me scorned me. My own mother, father, even my siblings told me to grow up and stop believing in fairy tales. But I had a secret, one I had never told them. I saw ghosts everywhere. Everywhere. In the hallway to my room, in the back yard, at the kitchen counter. And they saw me.
Little moments stitched into time by the gravity of circumstance – can it be so simple? Superstitious folk considered hauntings a grievous occurrence that brought to the forefront of their lives spirituality and faith. With a the growing and recent trend of liking “I Fucking Love Science,” people have found more creative ways to explain away such apparitions – like I said, little moments, stitched into time, replaying when all those little building blocks of our reality vibrate subtly to an unusual frequency.
People find all kinds of explanations to adequately make sense of the past – me? I see them everyday. A possibility missed here, a chance not taken there, a crossroads with no meetings because of a sudden and inexplicable act of fate, a product of a million little factors that can’t possibly be controlled by one person. Phantoms of the past -they’re memories. They help us read situations, they put terror into hauntings, they put science into the superstitious – but they’re memories, all the same.
Today, the thing that makes my hair stand on end aren’t the skeletons beneath me in a graveyard, or that dark closet in an old childhood home, they are the realities I see before me, as real as they are fake, as meaningful as they are meaningless, that haunt me every day.
A lifetime of possibility before your eyes, as invisible, as uncertain, as terrifying as a spectre.
Ghosts to me are not the spirits of the dead that have come back to haunt us, but rather the echos of choices in the past we should have made. Should I have turned on this road? Maybe I should have passed on that job.
I had always believed in ghosts, even when those around me scorned me. My own mother, father, even my siblings told me to grow up and stop believing in fairy tales. But I had a secret, one I had never told them. I saw ghosts everywhere. Everywhere. In the hallway to my room, in the back yard, at the kitchen counter. And they saw me.