Drunkenly writing pros now, am I?
Well I haven’t done that since college.
Remind me to never break out the rose again.
It always kicks my ass.
I’m definitely hung over.
God I need an advil.

I haven’t written like that in a long time.
The words just flew out of me, I can’t remember the last time writing felt so natural.
But some of the words don’t feel like mine.
Maybe he was a writer too?
Did you add to my work you cheeky bastard?

Sometimes I think I live too much in the past.
That's partially why I moved out here.
To get away from the past.
Things just all seemed to move too fast back home.
In this city, things actually seemed to slow down for me.
So I moved here.
Now I have a ghost, which is a physical form of the past.
That's rather ironic in my opinion.
Of all the places I could have ended up.
I'm here.
With him.
And still trying to figure him out.
Can I truly solve his mystery?
Does he even want me to?