Comment: A little creative nonfiction, just to mix things up

I don’t believe in ghosts. I have never seen a ghost, or believed that an actual dead person was visiting me, or trying to tell me something. I have not experienced the paranormal in any shape or form. Traditional ghosts aren’t interested in me.

There is a different kind of ghost, however.

There are goofy ghosts, like ex-boyfriends with poor hygiene and bad manners, or pathetic kissers with good intentions, obnoxious English teachers who annoyed you. Old friends from elementary school that you’ll never see again except perhaps on Facebook. These are the easy ghosts. They don’t lurk or linger. They pop in, then pop right back out again. They don’t want to interfere with your day. They just want to remind you that you’ve done some stupid shit, but you can laugh about it now, no worries, see you later, peace out.

Your drug friends, your drinking buddies, long since gone, haunt you whenever you take a drink or light a cigarette. Ghosts do smoke cigarettes. Menthols, usually.

But the really ugly ghosts that torment you are the mistakes. The people you’ve wronged, or who have wronged you. They remind you of your many flaws, foibles, and sheer stupidity. They are angry, petulant, terrified. How do you exorcise something you can’t see?

Will you someday have to meet these ghosts in some freaky afterworld? Or is their haunting you in the day and in dreams enough torture? Is there an expiration date on payback? Because these ghosts love to linger.

They love to remind you that you suck. That you screwed up. That you’re not fooling anyone. You will be found out. The ghosts know that. They don’t want you to forget that.

Guilt is a ghost. So is regret. Remorse. Anger is one of the most powerful ghosts. You think you’re over it, but you get haunted again and again.

Maybe I do believe in ghosts.