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I live in a town filled with ghosts. Constant visual representations of the past haunt me daily.
A tiny town filled with too much history I can’t seem to escape.
When I look out the window directly across the street sits a small old house, where the first man I ever loved lived years ago.
One street and 4 mailboxes in between there is a house that currently sits empty where another failed love endeavor used to live.
Two blocks up a medical clinic takes the place of what was once small apartments. Apartments I would visit in all hours of the night looking for an escape from reality with friends.
So many grim reminders of the person I once was in every direction of this town. No place in a ten-mile radius is safe from holding a memory I want to forget.
A town that never brought out the good in me. A town that I was able to leave once but was pulled back to.
I drive by fields that used to be hangout spots, the old tanning salon I used to bake my skin to what I thought then was the perfect golden brown, and a building that used to be a laundromat but doesn’t exist anymore. Just like so many factories and restaurants…all just plots of land now that hold memories but nothing else.
There’s the metal building across town that once housed a video store I worked at while my mom owned it until she fired me, shattering our relationship once again.
Behind the only grocery store sits the assisted living facility I used to visited weekly that my grandma last lived in before a stroke took her life.
Dropping my son off at school I’m reminded of how I never went beyond the 11th grade in that same building. Dying to get out and taste life and move beyond adolescence. Ironic how after all these years…I’m back.
I’m stuck. And again, dying to get out of this ghost town that has been nothing but primarily pain for many years.
Haunted by broken relationships, people and places long gone, and a constant reminder of the person I once was.