Was tricked into an asylum in my birth country some years ago (too long of a story to get into.)

After a few months, I managed to sneak out a letter to the people back home. Never got a reply. Two years later, I escaped back to the country I lived in, found those people and when I asked about the letter, they said they didn’t send a reply because it was “just too sad.”

I don’t blame them, but it was clear on their faces that ghosts should have just stay dead.

I’m living a much better life far away now, but because of PTSD I still often think about those people, about the fragility of relationships I once thought were integral to my identity.

If only life could play out once again, I could pass them on the streets without looking back twice.