Ghost Riders

Tell me why you want to ride with ghosts. I’ll gladly listen, won’t be overwhelmed nor judge. I assume you haven’t had the chance to discuss it with anybody else. Neither have I, but I’ve given the topic some thought.

Are you trapped inside a house that you hate, that doesn’t feel like home, that grows hostile with every passing day? Have you tried to leave it or are you bound to dwell there until success comes to you? Or where you abused as a child, physically, verbally or both? Was your mother too rough? Was your father never home? Are you afraid of raising your kids the same way you were raised?

I want to hear your anecdotes, the memories that haunt your every dream, the reasons you want to ride downhill.

Are you an indirect victim of cancer, like so many in this century? Was that the reason you pressed a gun barrel to your head? Have you witnessed death? Have you witnessed war? Have you witnessed bullets on the fly? Have you ever seen something that made you lose your faith in life?

Or did someone break your heart into so many pieces that the shards ripped your lungs and left you unable to breathe? Is that the reason you drank down the acid, to burn all the wounds that your lover has left you?

What about medicine, or the lack thereof? Did you grow ill, and if so, for how long, of a sickness of such degree that you’re ashamed to say it?

Shame, shame, loneliness, lack of faith, lack of will, lack of spirit or chance to heal… Everyone in the world has its reasons, and they’re to be respected.

I’ve thought as well of riding along, but I’ve lacked the guts to ask for the ride. I’ve thought as well of riding along, but the deal isn’t fair: it’s always at a loss.

Did you think your time was over? Is that the reason you overdosed on pills? Everyone in the world will run out of time. There’s no need to shorten it. There’s still so much to live. Even with wounds in your stomach, a scar on your face, a childhood of war, or an ill that you carry.

I’ve thought as well of riding along. I’ve had my reasons, but it takes a strong will. If you ever manage it, I’ll see your ghost with respect. But it’s nothing to cherish, there’s nothing to win. Everyone in the world will think of it someday, I’m sure that we all do. Don’t be ashamed, it’s natural, I just think it’s not worth it.

I’ve thought as well about riding along, but there’s still so much to see. There’s still so much to do. There’s still so much to breathe. There’s still so much to feel. There’s still so much to say. There’s still so much to do.

There’s just so much inside us that someone would gladly see.

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