Ghost of the Past

2004-10-21 - 2:39 p.m.

My dad sent me an email from the ship he's currently on, and then he sent another email to wonder why I hadn't answered him yet. In the first email, he let me know how disappointed he was that I didn't call on my sister's birthday (which I didn't and, really, it's another symptom that things aren't right in Magusland, and just another thing I'm piling onto the "things I'll feel really bad about when I finally break" mound), and then told me my history in brief while getting all the details wrong. He's proud of me, incidently, for staying at my workplace as long as I have. The email that I will write him will be dismal, I think.

I wish I wasn't like this. I wish it wasn't so hard for me to stay in touch with people.

An old friend from high school has just announced that she's pregnant, but while looking at the pictures of her life I wonder if I ever even knew her back then. I'm pretty sure I didn't. I don't think I understand people very much at all. Looking at her pictures now, it's like looking at the pictures of a stranger. There's a stranger's Thanksgiving table (she has a lot of pictures of tables and windows and settings and stuff, but not many of people), there's a stranger's porch, there's a stranger's fetus...

Sometimes I wonder if I'd make a better ghost, just floating through peoples' lives, then disappearing. It's practically what I do.

It's lonely.

Cheers,

The Magus

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