ghosts

I've always feared them, and, now, I find myself choosing to live with them. Daily. I allow myself to be haunted over and over again of my ancient past just to have it back momentarily. But, when the moment passes, I am left with such a raw, longing feeling. Leaving myself to deal with the gut reactions to tell the ghost what I'm feeling the next chance we run into each other in attempt to bring him back to my life. Telling myself if I'm just honest about how I feel, no doubt that would be enough to breath life back into him.
The truth is, life has gone on and almost always will and the past that I so desperately want back is the one I've just created. The beautiful, rose-colored one with all things neatly and perfectly arranged. No problems. Perfection. Instead of channeling those things into the here and now, instead of seeking real, tangible possibilities, my only desire is to revive the past and make it right.
Always, always fucking ghosts.
I fear the future now, even though, as I was told over dinner, it's happening every day. If I would just tell the present what I need to and let go of the past, I could be moving toward a rose-colored future (when I wear the right glasses). The words never come, hell they haven't even found a page until now for far too long.
I fear altering my present so as not to later discover more ghosts that I'll want to hold close for their fleeting comfort.
All of them are lessons learned wrapped in beautiful packages of hindsight tied with a neat bow of mistakes made. I should leave them as they are. But, once the knot is loosed and tossed aside all I am left with is the beautiful gift of what I really wanted it to be.
It's a painful, self-destructive, non-productive attempt as a better life.
Says the girl who always says (and believes?) "everything happens (happened?) for a reason.