In Halloween…Ghosts of the Past

Just yesterday I called an old friend of mine who lives in Montreal, the guy who helped to move here in this region. I told him about my car, the difficulties I had (parking of course). I told him about the thing I went to see my ex bitch apartment. When I said say that he just added: “you’re still attatched” Just for changing the direction of this phrase I replied: “She still has my things”. I also added she smokes and he said she was driking, as if he was a fortune teller. I asked why he was saying that :”both things go together”.

It was really hard to go to work. I was feeling totally alone and ignored. I decided to wear what an ex friend gave as gift when he went to India, a kind of sari, not a sari, very beautiful. So, I thought probably I’d look more like Hindi, anyway. When I arrived to the office, nobody looked at me, nobody say anything about my clothes. In fact, nobody was desguised. I overheard the boss would be but he came with normal clothes and after he changed himself turning into a hippy…a very idiot one. When I went outside to buy my card the tender smiled me and said he wasn’t expecting nobody to be customed…I find it very nice of him since nobody saw. When I took the elevator, a woman gave me nice compliments about my clothes. She said she liked the geometrical designs. It was so nice to feel alive and looked.

At the office again I was looking to my screen without nothing to do and in that moment I noticed what I’m kind of attached to my past. First, my ex bitch, because despite everything it was the only person I was available to talk. The ex friend who gave me that nice skirt/overall or whatever it is, left my life almost 1 year ago, after his insults. My friend who I went for a couple of days to her apartment in Montreal doesn’t write me anymore. My crazy friend Maria, addicted to religion stuff after the fight we had for shopping cars doesn’t write or call me anymore. So, now I understand why I always look back, sometimes in anger sometimes in sadness.But I always look back, I had things, or people, or probably I thought I had people around me.

Ghosts exist, they are most of the time dead, but memory bring them back every time we feel alone