I've had ghosts following me all day. Many people believe that ghosts are limited to phantasmic figures, but they exist in songs too. And old photos, and calenders, and dreams, and names. They exist within his name, and how many times I used to write it and say it. Ghosts exist within the walls of the places we went, and within the plans that we made. They have chessboards in stock again, by the way. I only went in there looking for bracelets- I had no idea that memories would follow. They don't paralyze me like they used to though. These days, a deep breath will do the trick, but I'm not sure whether to feel relief because my insides no longer unravel at the thought of you like they once did or terrified because I'm beginning to forget what you were like when everything was still okay between us.
Once again, home is a total and complete mind fuck.