Dear, Ghost

I'm not sure how I know you're there, but I can feel it. Like there is an invisible... Aura(?) in the room. I can feel the strength of your soul, the weight of your gaze. I wonder what you might say to me if given the chance.

     I first felt you with me when I was in the kitchen, making bread. It hit me all of a sudden. "there's someone here," I thought to myself. But I knew I was alone.
     Sometimes I wonder who you are, if I knew you while you were alive. It makes me sad to think of you following me all day. Maybe you have to, maybe you chose to. But why me?
     Part of me feels as if you are the presence of someone I love, or loved. But I'm not sure who. I know who I hope you're not.
To be honest though, I really don't know much about ghosts, I don't know how they work. I've seen movies and read books about hauntings. But I don't think ghosts are all that scary; I guess they could be if they were vengeful.
     Did you enjoy your life? God, I wish I could ask you about it. I wish I could ask you who you are, and why you're with me. I'm very curious about you, and that worries me seeing as how I don't actually have proof that you're there at all. But I feel you in the room with me, I hear you in my headphones, in the songs I listen to. Like they mean something to you and they play on shuffle for a reason, like you want me to hear them. Are you trying to talk to me? Do you want me to know more about you?
     I can't help but wonder if I meant anything to you on your life...
     Did you know me?
      The strangest part is, I'm not even sure if I believe in ghosts. And yet, you feel just as real to me as any human being would standing next to me. And that makes me feel as if I've stood next to you when you were alive.
     But no one I know has died, that I'm aware of.

     I feel your gaze on me while I walk to class. But you don't sit next to me, it feels like you wait for me by the door until class is over. I wonder what you think of me, how I act, who I talk to, what I say.
      As soon as I walk through the door and out into the hallway, it's like I can breathe again and you're there. I can almost picture the way you walk, too. Your hands in the pockets of your jeans, your shoulders slouched a bit, your feet shuffling along with mine. Do you get bored of following me?
     I know I get bored of being me.
     Sometimes I almost just start talking to you as I walk to my next class. But I have to stop myself because no one is walking with me, but there are plenty of people walking past me. I tell myself that I can communicate to you through the thoughts I focus on, or maybe just through a facial expression.
     Ghost, I wish I could know your name.
    

                             Love,
                                     C.