The Ghost of She

The wall.

I’ve been staring at it for the past three hours.

It hasn’t moved. Wait a minute – no, that was just my stomach.

My phone. It hasn’t rang yet. If it does, would I even be ready?

I’m stranded. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. I’m exhausted.

I thought, when I got on the plane to come out here to this desolate location on a continent on the other side of the world, that I could heal myself. Find myself amongst the desert sand and exotic surroundings.

But, no matter where I go, I can’t seem to shake off this girl. She’s in my dreams when I go to sleep. She’s the one who wakes me up every morning. She’s the one I have to stop thinking about to take a decent shit.

She’s the one who abandoned me. Took my heart out and smushed it around like a pigment on a watercolor painting.

There I was, my ignorant ass, thinking that she was the girl I wanted to marry one day. Thinking about how awesome it would be to go on amazing adventures with her. Like this one that I’m on right now.

There she was, juggling God knows how many men at once. Creating special memories with them. Getting lost inside them. Slowly falling out of love with me.

Hold on a second…

——————

Sorry about that. The power just went out for a few minutes. I’m writing on this old Windows 98 computer (the recycled byproducts of good old-fashioned American disposable manufacturing) that was donated to the village elders a few months ago. It’s the brightest thing in this whole fucking village.

Somehow – don’t ask me how – one of the tribesmen has managed to put together an internet connection using a plastic bag and a coca cola can and some other weird shit lying around. I have no idea how it works, and I’m afraid that if I touch it, it’ll explode. I’m a little afraid just to look at it, because it looks kinda like a prayer is holding it together.

This kid who did the internet, he’s a genius. I wish there were more people in the world like him. All smiles and innovation, even with no prospects of ever getting out of poverty if he stays in this village, and the constant fear of getting murdered by bandits or government soldiers.

The weather here is sunny, with a chance of “It’s so fucking hot out, my shirts are stained with a permanent layer of salt crystals from a single day of activity.”

But I prefer extreme hot to extreme cold any day of the week. Except Saturdays at Whistler. They got this great nightclub up there, and the women are damn fine…

Oh no. I just started thinking about Her again.

This is what I’m talking about. I can’t even get five minutes of peace without having some thought of her.

I haven’t puked in a while, thank God. About a week it’s been.

I was in the restroom in my friend’s flat in London on New Years Eve. I was having a great night. We had just gotten through a Sherlock Holmes marathon. I had had some champagne, cheese and crackers. Little doodads with meat. Pickled asparagus. I watched the fireworks over the river out the window. I saw all these couples kissing at the stoke of midnight and looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. I realized that I was alone again. My thoughts returned to my ex, and I made my way to the water closet where I proceeded to regurgitate the contents of my evening’s appetizers.

I spent Haloween alone. I spent Christmas alone. I spent New Years alone. All the while, thinking of her, and who she was probably spending her nights with. And I don’t doubt that she was with different persons on each of those holidays. This holiday season has been the absolute worst holiday season of my life.

It’s a recurring phenomena. I come to some exotic place to forget about this girl, where I am nearly always reminded of her in some way or another. Some girl in the airport wearing the same perfume she does. Some girl with brown hair looks just like her, turns around, and kisses someone else.

None of this shit really matters at all, does it? The fast cars, the bumping subwoofers, the flashy lights. None of it matters. The only thing that I want in the world is a girl. A very specific girl. I want her to fall back in love with me and promise never to leave me ever again. But that will never happen, will it?

It’s like the whole world is laughing at me.

That’s why I’ve been staring at this wall the last few hours. It’s the perfect travel partner. It doesn’t remind me of my ex. It doesn’t get sad when I get angry. It doesn’t cheat on me. It doesn’t think I’m weak. It doesn’t think I’m vain or conceited. With this wall, I would spend the rest of my life. If only it was a human being. If only it was more like Her.

Shit.

God, save me. Save me. Please.

I’m gonna go eat dinner now, before I break down and cry again. The old lady here is putting on a delicious meat dish. I don’t want to know what type of meat. I just know it’s amazing with tabasco sauce. Maybe, for a few hours, I can enjoy myself and forget about her. Probably not, but maybe.

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