I don't believe in the white spectre-type of ghosts you get in stories, but what if ghosts are something else? Like memories somehow caught and trapped in time, released by being in certain places where things first happened.
Julia GreenBecause that's what you do when something terrible happens. You go over and over every little thing, looking for clues, trying to find a pattern and a way to make sense out of the muddle and hurt.
Julia GreenThere is always that choice, the light or the dark
Julia GreenThis is how it happens, this is how you stop yourself feeling so much. You go cold, colder still with each disappointment, each betrayal until you find you've frozen over at the core of you and you stop feeling anything anymore.
Julia GreenThere's this rushing sound, like white noise.
The sound of nothing.
The water is deep and dark. It shines like treacle in the lights from the boat. You'd go down, down, down.
Julia GreenI pull out my notebook from my bag and open it. I read through all the pages I’ve written. It makes me feel more substantial, somehow. I do exist. I am me. This is the story of my heart.
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