Ghosts Of My Past

The city streets lay deserted, shrouded in the dark of night as its inhabitants slumbered. Yet, amidst the silence, the gentle chirping of birds hinted at the imminent dawn. Steering my car homeward, I traversed the silent streets, where closed doors bore witness to the quietude. As I rounded the corner towards my dwelling, the sky began to lighten, casting aside the veil of night. In the stillness, a lone figure traversed the empty streets, methodically sliding papers beneath each door before moving on.
Parking my car, I unlocked my door, only to catch sight of the man once more as he approached the neighboring house. With a courteous nod, he greeted me.
"Hello, sir! I recall you haven't subscribed," he remarked, pausing by my side.
I offered him a warm smile and invited him in for coffee. Initially taken aback by my invitation, he eventually accepted, following me inside.
"Thank you," he said, settling onto the couch as I handed him a mug.
As I fetched coffee from the kitchen, he leaned forward, curiosity etched on his face.
"May I ask something?" he inquired, taking a tentative sip.
"Of course," I replied, taking a sip of my own.
"Why don't you start your day with the newspaper?" he queried, his eyes searching mine.
I observed his subtle expressions, a contrast to my own furtive demeanor, before answering.
"What merits does the morning paper hold that one must prioritize it above all else? There are myriad other ways to begin one's day," I countered.
"Yeah, that's true," he acknowledged. "But it at least keeps you updated about the world, like what's happening around, etc."
"Oh, come on," I sighed, shaking my head. "I don't want to be updated about the mess the world is creating or dealing with. I have enough of my own mess to deal with and sort out."
"I see," he replied, sensing my disinterest in the topic. Perhaps he recognized that he couldn't change my perspective on morning reading habits, or maybe he recalled our initial encounter and decided not to push the matter further.
"So, you live alone?" he ventured.
"Umm... Yeah," I confirmed, taking another sip.
"No family at all?" he asked, surprised.
"Well... Yeah, no family at all," I emphasized, elongating the word 'all' to underscore the absence of any familial ties.
"Oh... that's unusual," he remarked.
"Why is that unusual?" I countered. "There are plenty of unfortunate people in this cruel world who have lost their families and live as alone as I do."
"Well... People do lose their loved ones in terrible accidents, wars, bomb attacks, and the like. But that doesn't mean they become truly alone," he explained. "The world is full of humans, and at some point in their lives, they do find someone as caring, loving, and loyal as their own family members. These individuals replace their feelings of solitude and turn their loneliness into companionship. Haven't you found anyone like that in your life?"
His gaze was fixed on me, and mine on him.
He's right. People do find such companions who replace their solitude and become their family. It's true that I've found such individuals in my life too. But the history behind it is haunting, something that still gives me goosebumps and shakes my soul. I hummed softly, not wanting to delve into those memories. Answering his question would awaken those ghosts that haunt me every night, preventing me from finding peace.
"Umm... so never," he remarked, sensing my reluctance to respond.
I lowered my gaze, staring into the remaining coffee in my mug. Bringing it to my lips, I took the last sip and placed the mug on the table.
"What about your family?" I asked, attempting to change the topic and infuse some freshness into our conversation, which had grown heavy with the weight of our previous discussion.
"My family..." he began, his lips forming a smile. "My love. That's all I have. And with them, I feel like the richest man in the world. I have two beautiful kids— one in college, the other in school. And my wife, she's my everything. She cooks delicious meals for us, turning our modest home into a palace. I love her," he continued, his words flowing without pause, his face radiating pride, peace, and contentment.
I couldn't help but admire the joy and fulfillment evident in his expressions as he spoke about his family. I let him talk, relishing the happiness that illuminated his features. He shared stories of his children's habits, their favorite places to visit on weekends, their sibling squabbles, and their bond with him. He recounted his love story with his wife, describing their journey from marriage to parenthood with unwavering affection. It was as if someone had pressed play on a tape recorder, and there was no stopping him.
After almost half an hour, he finally bid his farewell, mentioning he needed to pick up his son from art class. I watched him leave, grateful for the respite his stories had provided from my own turbulent thoughts. Once he was gone, I retreated to my room and succumbed to sleep for a few hours.
I awoke as the sun dipped towards the western horizon, casting long shadows across the room. After a shower and a change of clothes, the weight of memories in this house became suffocating. Every corner held reminders of her—walls we embraced against, sofas where we shared intimate moments, corners where we stole kisses, and doors where we lingered before parting ways.
After scavenging some food from the fridge, I decided to escape the oppressive atmosphere. Outside, the neighborhood kids played carefree on the streets. I unlocked my car and drove to the real estate office. I couldn't bear to remain in this house any longer, where memories of her and Liesel's ghost haunted every corner.
Love, I reflected bitterly, is a ruthless emotion. It refuses to let you find peace once it has ensnared you. Loving becomes a curse, a debilitating ailment with no cure.
It was time to redirect my focus to my life and career, aspirations my mother had once shared. She had dreamed of me becoming a doctor, and I had pursued that path diligently. Yet, with each passing year, my mental state deteriorated further.
Deciding to move forward in life, I knew I needed to address my mental state first. To fulfill the responsibilities demanded by my chosen profession, I needed to be secure and trustworthy. However, my current state of mind wasn't conducive to that. The first step was finding a new home, a fresh start away from the memories that haunted me.
Fortunately, I found a suitable apartment close to my college. It wasn't spacious, but it was in the best housing building in town. With the goal of leaving my old house behind as quickly as possible, I wasted no time in making the move.
It turned out to be the best decision I'd ever made. The new place introduced me to wonderful people who filled the void left by my family. Among them, I found a best friend—a companion with whom I could watch matches, play games on weekends, and escape to beaches for quality time on holidays. Their presence brought joy and companionship, alleviating the loneliness that had weighed heavily on me before.
Facing the ghosts of my past, the haunting memories that tormented me each night, was as crucial as finding a new home. Despite my efforts to escape her memory, I couldn't evade the demons that plagued my nights, suffocating me with their horror and deafening me with their voices.
One evening, after settling into my new apartment, I sat before my laptop and embarked on a search for the best psychologists in town. After some browsing, I found a few promising names and ultimately selected one.
The next day, at noon, I dialed his number and booked an appointment. It was a step towards confronting my demons, towards finding peace and solace amidst the chaos of my mind.