Ghost

I’m buying books today. I’m standing there, lost, in the mist of the Anthropology and Human History. Where is the god damn Physical Fitness section? The class started about 5mins ago and I’m still looking for the book. I’m stressed and tired.

Then a man enters the same aisle. He stands there scanning the books not noticing that I am there, not even acknowledging my existence. True, this is what people do in this culture. We respect another’s personal space… we ignore each other.

However, I know this man. I know him more than he would like to admit.

We dated, you see, a couple years ago. And in a small liberal arts school like this, you’re bound to run into a few, scratch that, you’re going to run into all of your ex's sooner or later, possibly in the same day. I know this, he knows this, I think everyone in this small town knows this. But we still fuck each other and act like nothing happened the next day.

I try not to. I want to be as humanistic as I can toward my former affaires. He doesn’t. He wishes it never happened. I’m not asking for much, just acknowledgment of my fucking existence. For crying out loud we’ve seen each other naked. The least we can do is recognize each other as another human being… a greeting or even a nod would do. But no, we stand there looking at the same row of books, in silence.

My brain isn’t silent though. It cries out trying to make him not regret anything… I don’t. So I go blind by my own thoughts and I walk away from the book case, I walk away from my past. I reject my past just as it rejects me. I wanted to leave, I just stood on the other side of the book case sorting my thoughts. All I could think about was walking to the door but I needed to find this damn book. Where the fuck is it?

“Can I help you with something?” A short robust lady walked toward me. I hate when I ask for help in here. There are like 5 bookcases total, all labeled. Why the fuck should I need help?

I told her yes, and she escorted me to the proper bookcase adjacent to the Human History section… My History. I peered down the aisle, and he was gone.

That’s the thing about ex’s. They either wish you to disappear or want to be in your life. And in a small town like this one you have to make a quick conscious decision to either act like a complete asshole or a inviting warm person because you’re bound to run into each other and it will be awkward as hell if you haven’t decided how you’ll react. 

And no matter how much you resent your past relationships, no matter how much you try to repress them and bottle up all the feelings and images toward that person, it won’t work. They’re still out there just as alive as you are. They’re in your class, at your store, down the street, even at the same party. 

This is a ghost town, where everyone is running from each other, from their past. But, we’re all ghosts. Someone has made the decision to make you a apparition because it’s too painful to acknowledge you as part of them. Someone wants to blink out your existence. Mine has been. Not because I've done anything I regret, but because I'm someone's mistake. I'm someone's ghost.