Ghost

There is a ghost that has been hunting me persistently. The ghost has no form. It comes as a feeling, a foreboding that weighs me down each time. Like a bad dream that wouldn't go away, it eats up my mind, starting at the corners, and slowly gnawing its way to the core of my existence. I had tried to ignore it, hoping it will fade from my consciousness in its own accord. But last night, I woke up and did not recognize myself. The ghost has succeeded in drilling ugly holes in the image I keep of my self. Now it's cutting the ties that bind me to my Laughter. It is taking its sweet time, munching on the threads and twines, one at a time.

I let out a scream of alarm. I looked around for help, but found none.