I don’t believe in ghosts. Or at least not in the traditional sense.

I like making jokes about them. Just this week, I was telling people that a blog post I made was absolutely not haunted and they should stop asking questions, but it’s all for the lulz, right? I mean… right?

Let’s say this: I don’t believe in ghosts in the way that most people believe in ghosts. A manifestation of old souls, actual people lingering, attempting to deal with a life unfulfilled, thoughts incomplete. I do believe in the metaphor though.

As I wander through life, I’m followed by my own ghosts. Bad choices made, past connections that linger in the mind… as I walk, they drift about, begging for attention and gaining it on occasion. For the most part, they manifest themselves in dreams, the subconscious never forgetting what was thought to be lost in the mists. I usually wake feeling tense, coated in sweat, gasping for a bit of air, even though I’ve been breathing just fine.

We all have our ghosts, the things that haunt us. I think that’s why the idea of ghosts came about in the first place – lingering spirits trying to find a way to resolve. We love the idea of closure, but sometimes the best we get is a general sense of peace that allows the odd drifter to pass along through. We remain haunted by remnants and I think we always will be. They are the price of a life lived.

What we can choose, I think, is how we react to being haunted. I deal with my hauntings poorly. I get embarrassed and I bury. I can’t count the amount of times I dream of the past, of rectifying a mistake or pushing further in the opposite direction. It’s the exes that really get to me. The ones that “got away”, the ones that linger. The what ifs combined with the strangeness of dreams becomes a heady mix that grips my heart. Why would I think of them? They’re gone. They’re lost. And there were reasons for that.

I get embarrassed. I keep it in. I’m not proud of my hauntings, not proud that my brain won’t let the past lie, when there is today.

I don’t know what to do about the ghosts. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel confident about talking about these hauntings any deeper than I am right now. To be honest, I’m pretty uncomfortable with what little I’ve talked about right now.

But.

Ghosts… ghosts aren’t real. They’re manifestations, sometimes angry, sometimes benevolent, of things gone by. Things that linger, but ultimately… ultimately, they only matter as much as you or I allow them to. And I think in talking about them, even a little bit here, I’m stealing power from them today.

The goal is to not be owned by the past. It will never be forgotten. It can’t be. But the future… there’s a power that can be taken from it. It is yet to be, and I can help shape it, help write it. I can choose what it looks like and what it means. I can separate it from the ghosts as much as any of us can. And that’s something.

So. Try not to let the hauntings get you down kids. Ghosts aren’t real. You are. And the future is what you make of it.

We’ll talk again tomorrow.