The Story of my Ghost

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I don’t even know where to start this story, but any beginning is better than nothing I suppose, right?

Sadly it was not some dark and stormy night, nothing at all that dramatic and scene setting. The only light that gathered at the edges of the encompassing darkness which surrounded me was the glaring numbers of my alarm clock, the neon green tinting the world around me with an ominous reading of the time, 1:47am.

Sleepily I sat at my desk, unseeing eyes burning a hole in the wood that I rested my muddled head upon. As of yet I couldn’t bring myself to open the lid of my laptop and order the abused electronic device to stir from its own peaceful slumber.

What I wouldn’t give to have an off switch for my brain.

Eventually I would give up on willing myself back to sleep, instead resigning to disturbing the computer in front of me to hasten to life with a whirring groan. Impatiently I would wait for the screen to flicker with a harsh light I would need to shield my strained eyes from, whispering a single aggravated curse under my breath.

The loading screen was as uneventful as ever, and I tapped my fingers against the worn plastic of the keys spread out before me, their faces marred by what looked like a lifetime of abuse inflicted by overuse.

Once I was able, I would deftly navigate through the motions I had come to follow as more of a ritual than should be healthy. Opening the various messenger services which connected me to those lurking the internet like me, before pulling up a window to check my email.

No messages, what a surprise. Not like normal humans kept hours like I did. The last man on earth is what I felt like in that moment.

Procrastination, that’s all this really was, killing time before I even thought about pretending to be productive. After all I should have been sleeping right now, so what did it matter what I did with my own stolen moments before the world around me woke?

Social networking sites, how I loathed them. All they were ever good for was allowing you to show others just how uneventful your life was, while they rubbed it in your face as too just how much of a life they happened to have. On top of that it all was some gigantic popularity contest. The four friends that made up my little networking bubble was proof enough that I was indeed, a loser. But at least I wasn’t pretending to be anything I wasn't.

Right now though, I didn’t feel like trying to fit my frustrations into the limited character count of a status update. So instead I lurked about the pages and pixels which contained the countless and ridiculous comments of my friends. It was a fruitless endeavor to be sure, but I managed to kill an hour and a half before I found myself searching out another distraction.

Always a staunch reminder, the bright numbers on the clock let me know all too well that time was passing me by.

Created: Dec 05, 2010

Tags: the story of my ghost, short story, strange

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