Haunted House

I lived in a haunted house once. I saw things. I felt things. I heard things. 

I became things.

It happened so often. And never followed me but it called me all the time. I knew whatever it was was old, it had been around for a long time... haunting the walls, hunting the feelings, haunted by feelings, not letting me sleep, not letting go. I will never forget the day I turn down and looked at the hall because something woke me up. I felt a presence so strong and heavy I couldn’t stop to look. In that moment the door of the room that I was in began to close and I close my eyes so hard until my mom’s roommate came to me and told me to get ready for school. I was quiet all day after that and realized that there was a spirit in the house. It’s not my first encounter but it has been my strongest. Today as a story rises again in me I realize that I have been a haunted house for my soul. My soul is the same young girl scared in the room, innocent and curious... watching the door close never knowing what’s going to happen. My soul is scared for a return. It’s weighed down by the pressure of my spirit. I want to be free and free is what I’ll be as long as I remember me.

I’m coming back, don’t worry, said the little girl in me. My wounds do not make time any longer, they are making me stronger. The mobility of my dreams and the integrity of my heart will keep me alive until I return home to my soul.

I apologize for putting you through this and I never meant to be this way. Trying to unlearn pain in society’s dismay. That house and this house God gave me has shown me a war I never asked to be a part of. 

Your faith in me is enough to keep me going. Thank you for this light. I’m walking home as I write.