And here I am.
Sitting on my bed.
The windows are both opened so the wind is blowing through my white curtains, making them act like ghosts.
I am normally afraid of ghosts but this sight is oddly satisfying.
I am waiting for something sweet to write here,
I got stories already.
In my head though. Only a few on paper, well, on my laptop.
But this site tells me to write something sweet and short. But I also want you to know me.
I want you to know the real me.
Which is not sweet and short.
I am real, not fake. Not checked by anyone, or photoshopped till perfection.
I am real.
I am the rough edges on your new clothes that make your skin itch.
I am the papercut you get from your favorite book.
I am the tears you cry because of the pain your friends give you.
I guess I am proud to say that you will never see lies from me.
You may hear them from me. But you will not see them.
If you know me good enough to understand me and all my stories, it should be enough to take a look at me.
It should be enough to look me in the eyes.
But guess that won't be happening.
We will have to wait a bit, to meet each other.
It will take time,
I will have to find out your strength, your stories, your weakness, your core.
And you will have to do the same.
But till then, I will still be sitting here.
On my bed, behind my laptop.
Looking at my favorite ghost.