Ghost.

When I was little, I remember wanting to go everywhere with my father. He used to travel a lot, and when he was back home he'd probably be out with his friends. I remember multiple times saying I wanted to go out with him, I wanted to spend time with my daddy, why isn't he taking me with him? A lot of the times I used to cry and grasp his legs so he wouldn't leave he'd tell me to go put my shoes on and I can go with him. I ran, I wiped my tears and ran with my heart fluttering, I swallowed the lump in my throat that formed from crying so much and I went with all the happiness in the world to grab my shoes and put them as fast as I could so that my daddy didn't have to wait long for me; but no matter how fast I was, I was never fast enough, no matter how rapidly I slide my pairs and no matter how much I try to not trip on my untied shoelaces I never made it before he left, I never ran to the door and found him. No matter how much I cried, it was always okay because, at the end, he would come back, he may come late at night, but I was a light sleeper and I could feel his footsteps when he came in to check on us, and even when he stopped coming into our rooms, I would still hear our apartment's door open and close, and that was enough reassurance that he's home and that I still have anothe chance, and that maybe if I wake up early enough I could catch him before he left for work, maybe I'd get to tell him one of the hundreds of stories I've been saving up to tell him, maybe this time I'll be a good girl and let him go without making a fuss about going out with him too, maybe he wouldn't feel the need to lie to me and send me to put my shoes on. One day though, was the worst of them all, that one day you told me to put my shoes on so I would go inside, and you'd leave as always, that day I knew you weren't coming back, that day your eyes were watery, and you looked sorry, you knelt in front of me, dropping to my height, and hugged me, you put your hand on my shoulder and fought back your tears, unaware that the redness in your face gives you away, and you told me "Go put your shoes on, and I'll wait for you here", I cried much more that time because I knew I wouldn't find you when I came out, and I knew I wouldn't find you ever again, dad. I went inside and I didn't talk, I couldn't voice that I somehow knew you weren't going to come through these doors again and that tonight I wouldn't be waken up by the sound of our door shutting close at 3 in the morning and I hate you for leaving me and leaving these scars behind for me to remember, to remember every time I asked you to stay a little longer and you refused, for every time I clutched on to your arms and you pushed me back gently, looking at mom asking her to hold me back so you could leave like you always do. I could never trust you, or anyone again. If you could leave me, how could I expect anyone else to stay? If after all my pleadings you still had the heart to leave me behind and never see me again, then how selfish could I be to ask anyone else to love me enough to prove that people sometimes do stay? How can I trust the words and promises of coming back, how can I trust that the words your lips utter are the truth? See, dad? You're still here, you're engraved in the depth of my mind, you're burning every wall of trust I try to build, you come back every time I try to let people in, the picture of you standing at the door haunts me every night, you're there in my pictures with my friends, you're the invisible ghost that only I can see, to remind me that everyone leaves. See, dad, you may have left but you never did, you may not be here physically, but the memory of you scars me every single day, and that is you, you’re my invisible ghost.