The Mortality of My Ghost

Written by Gabriella Troy
Art by Ryan Miguel Capili

It’s a slippery slope I’m falling down.
I’m tumbling through life backwards,
climbing mountain ranges that
should only be lush, green plains,
battling hindsight that blinds me
from the staircase ahead.

Each step up cracks the foundation
of yesterday and my heart plummets
five steps below, trailing my soulless
body that drags itself in circles like
life has chained its ankles with unruly
weeds from my backyard.

For all that this body has travelled,
I will leave no footprint. Memories of
smiles have been buried by fear of
the future, and I am but a ghost trapped
in purgatory, illogically wandering amidst
a storm of uncertainty, no light to guide
me through the gateway of moving on.

I watch other ghosts find relief, becoming
human enough to walk the path of happy
success. I wonder what their spirits carry
that mine lacks, and I wonder what brought me
to this haunted place. All I can remember is that
there is only this body and me, this life and my
friendship, this hope and my goals for tomorrow.