It's okay to be a ghost. It has its pleasures. You're light, you float, you slip in and out unseen, there's no love to lose or burden to bear. You have so little to hold you down. You are free.
But something has changed. Now, the ghost is scared. He cannot float. He's heavy. He's flesh and blood. He must open doors. He can't slip away unseen. The ghost is sad. All those years invisible haunt him now. Why didn't he try? Or care? Or be? The ghost is happy, he is found. He is held and he is seen. The ghost is seen.
But just like what he is, he cannot mingle with the living. The ghost is just a shadow of someone who was once warm, full of life, happiness, of hope and future. The ghost is sad but the life he lived before is what made him who he is now, dead. He cannot try. He cannot care or be. He cannot be seen.
