I woke up.

As I opened my eyes, I felt surprised for a moment, not a surprise that was over-exaggerated like when you see a ghost or whatnot, but rather a confused one to which you could simply describe by the utterance: huh? followed by the realization of: oh.

When I came to, I was still in the tub, marinating like a piece of chicken ready to be fried the next day, or maybe even like a forgotten tea bag that remained submerged in a cup.

I properly sat on the bathtub from my slouched down position and I stretched my arms up high, the usual.

Both my hands and feet were wrinkly, signaling that I'd been in the water for some time, though I'm not really sure of the exact duration to which this phenomenon occurs. Seeing them reminds me of dates for some reason, the fruit I mean, not the social activity nor the calendar. But the main and more measurable element that signaled that the end of my bath was long overdue was the water, which was now room temperature, meaning that It's likely been over half an hour or so.

I finally got out of the bathtub, and with a pull on the drain stopper, the water slowly drained away while I let the drain stopper float there, floating until all the water disappeared.

I then grabbed a towel and started to dry myself in front of the mirror, starting with my hair and then moving down until the soles of my feet. Having finished, I threw the towel in a clothes basket that was in the corner of the room.

I then proceeded to clothe myself with my usual attire, a black tracksuit.

Before I left the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. I don't really know why I do this, it wasn't as if looking in the mirror would magically make me handsome by any means. For one, the pimples on my forehead appalled me, and looking at them reminded me of a time when I had a bright red pimple on the dead center of my nose which made me look like Rudolf the rednosed reindeer. My face isn't noteworthy, it's not particularly ugly nor is it handsome either, it's just that I don't have any features that make me stand out, much like a side character, or more accurately, someone to add to the crowd. I think it's more of a force of habit. It's practically human nature to look in a mirror whenever one is around. Though there really isn't anything that I could get from looking in it, since the only person that could see me in my shut-in everyday life is myself, oh! and that ghost girl, but I don't care about what a child thinks about appearances. For one, most children of her age's appearance is greatly dictated by their parents, from their hairstyle, clothing, and even down to the shoes they wear. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, but I do think that a bit of freedom of choice is needed. However, it isn't really their money to begin with, so whatever the parent buys is what they inevitably get. Despite my earlier thoughts, I combed my hair neatly with my fingers.

Leaving the bathroom, I went back to my desk to try and get a sort of second wind to my reading, to see if whatever was bothering me a while ago had been washed away by the waters of my bathtub.

I opened my phone, went back to the last digital page that I was on, and continued to read.

For the most part, I was reading quite fine. It's still not my usual reading speed, but it was close to it. Maybe the bath was effective, or maybe I simply adjusted to reading digitally. Whatever it was, I'm just glad that everything was almost back to normal, or so I thought.

Soon after, around an hour or so, I began to falter in my reading and I was essentially back to the state before I had taken my bath. Despite this, I tried to push on with my reading, but it was when I read a quote that my relaxing alone time with my digital book was cut short yet again. the quote was "The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart." After my eyes laid upon these lines, I began to think of something that could supply what that unseeable and untouchable thing was. I first thought about the mind: emotions, memories, and whatnot, but then I thought about entities for some reason: gods, spirits, and ghosts. The moment my mind thought about ghosts, my vision suddenly darted towards the closet, to which the ghost girl still remains, or at least I think she's still there, I'm not really sure since I haven't checked, but hopefully she's gone.

My mind began to ponder about her. What exactly was she? I did already accept that she was a ghost of some sort, but I still yearned for an explanation, a more scientific reason for her existence. Then after that, I most definitely want to know why she is here of all places. It would make sense if she was someone from my past and came to haunt me, but even just from the first glance of her face, no one comes to mind. For one, if she really was someone I know, then she would need to be from around this neighborhood, and of course, they needed to have died in my lifetime, but the problem was that no one has died around here yet, except for... never mind.

I sighed and my eyes met with the ground.

Maybe she was from way before my time and had died in this very building and now haunts it. This was the explanation that I went with because my mood was now ruined and I didn't want to think further about it. Plus, if I did want to know more about her, then the obvious course of action was to ask her directly, to which I reply with no.

I leaned back on my chair, looked up, covered my eyes with my arm, and sighed again.

Thinking about this topic unfortunately led me to something that I didn't want to remember any time soon. I know I will have to face it eventually, but actually, I don't need to, since death's door is already inviting me in. Just a few more days and I can escape from it. So, the actual best course of action for me now is to simply ignore everything and occupy my mind with other things.

Speaking of other things, as the pale moonlight intruded upon my room, penetrating the gaps in my makeshift curtain, I realized that it was already time for dinner. And even without the exact time to know when to eat, the growling of my stomach proved to be the best alarm.

I set my phone aside and made my way into my dump of a kitchen. I grabbed the second serving of my Chinese fried rice, and a spoon, heated it in the microwave, and munched away.

As I ate, I couldn't help but stare at my living room, more specifically the closet. It wasn't visible from this angle but I could fully envision it even with my eyes open. There's just something that's bothering me about it. Yes, there is a ghost girl inside it, but something about her just seemed to weigh deep in my mind. I'm not really sure what it is, though I have a few guesses. Maybe it was her existence, which was still a mystery to me. She's been here the whole day, yet I know nothing about her. Granted, I don't want to have anything to do with her, but if she is going to stay here for any longer, though hopefully not, It's in my best interest to at least know her name.

It just occurred to me that what I'm currently thinking of is quite contradictory to my behavior, but I can justify it. For one, she's just a child, someone who isn't tainted by the ideals of society. Second, she's a ghost. If every other ghost is just like her: pure, carefree, and enthusiastic, then their association with fear would be nonexistent, meaning that humans would be far scarier than ghosts. Humans will do anything to get what they want, even if it means lying, abusing, backstabbing, threatening, killing, etc. But what about ghosts? They are free from all earthly desires. They can't become greedy since they have no need for money. They can't become gluttonous, since food isn't a necessity for them. They can't become social monsters, since why does someone invisible need to fit in? Now that I think about it, being a ghost just sounds so pleasing to me. It's just like my wish of becoming a bird, but far better. They are the spectators of the world, free of pain and suffering.

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Now where was I? Oh right! her name. If I ever get the opportunity to ask, then I will do it, but for there to be an opportunity, she needs to still be in that closet, to which I'm not really sure if she is still there.

I finished eating.

After cleaning up, I approached the closet.

I took a deep breath in. Even though I did say to myself that I should at least get her name, I was still nervous to do it. I haven't partaken in conversations in quite a while and who knows if I can still verbally dictate my thoughts. Maybe I'm now a nervous wreck that blabbers nonsense, or maybe I'll just freeze up and not even speak a single word. I just hope that I still have an ounce of social skills left. The best course of action would be to practice first, but the thought of practicing how to speak to people is quite demoralizing and I would rather just wing it than confront my patheticness. If ever I am not ready for it, I'll go with plan B, which is to pretend that I still can't see her and act like I'm just there to grab a change of clothes.

With a not-so-foolproof plan, I grasped the closet handle and slowly swung it open.

A sigh of relief exits my mouth. She was still there, and by the looks of the undisturbed piles of clothes, she hadn't moved much. She sat there, her tiny hands wrapped around her legs with her head resting on her knees. She was asleep. It didn't even cross my mind that one would be asleep at this hour, indeed it was now the dead of night, and she was a child, meaning that her bedtime is early, but I didn't think that ghosts needed to sleep. But looking back, she was asleep the first time I saw her in the closet. I only realized this now and the first instance pretty much slipped my mind.

Unfortunately, I can't get her name at this moment, but at least I now have some time to prepare myself for my very first conversation in a while.

I looked away, sighed, and slowly closed the closet door, trying to not disturb her ghostly slumber.

"I'm..."

I suddenly froze. She was muttering something in her sleep, but I couldn't hear it clearly, only the first half was audible. I silently reopened the closet door, which hadn't fully closed yet, and sneakily leaned closer to her.

Honestly, this moment is quite nerve-racking for me. Obviously, it is, since I'm basically sneaking around and trying to not wake her up, but this might just be the first time that I got this close to someone else, much less a girl. I could clearly hear the pounding in my chest as every second passed.

Now that I'm close enough to her, I can say firsthand that ghosts don't smell like anything. I'm not creepy or anything, it's just that I'm close enough to her and of course, I needed to inhale once in a while, I swear it wasn't anything intentional. You would probably be sick in the head to want to sniff a child, much less a ghost.

"I'm s..."

She muttered something again, but even as close as I was, I couldn't fully hear it, so I leaned in closer. My ear is now half a chopstick away from her face. I held my breath so as to not accidentally wake her up with my nervous breathing.

"I'm.. I'm sorry."

I finally heard what she said, though I'm not really sure what she meant by this. My face didn't form much of a reaction, but I'm just a bit confused. A bit satisfied with my eavesdropping, I pulled my face out of the closet and slowly closed the closet door yet again when suddenly, I caught a glimpse of her face. She was indeed asleep, yet her face was in a slight frown and tears moistened her shut eyes.

"I'm sorry," she muttered again.

With more confusion in my head, I fully closed the closet door.

Why was she apologizing? and to whom?

I placed an open palm on the closet, not sure why but it's a sort of mannerism of mine to hold or place my hand on something whenever I ponder deeply about something.

Did her sadness have anything to do with her past life? or was it more about her present time? I can't really guess anything about her background so the only clues that I have are of her time here.

I started to think back to last night, to our first meeting. It was around midnight or so when she first appeared, maybe a bit later. She just appeared out of nowhere, like a bug that was now suddenly in my room, a bug that was trying to get me to play with her. Thinking back, did she witness my attempted suicide? Even if she is just a child, I am quite interested in her thoughts about death, plus she's a ghost, so she has experience on the matter. Then... what happened next? Oh, that's right, I acted like a wuss and hid under the blanket. Honestly, that's quite disappointing and embarrassing of me. I wanted to die yet I was scared of a tiny ghost girl. Then she started to pull on my blanket, asking for me to play with her, and then....

"Oh!" I exclaimed inside my head, taking my hand off the closet and pointing up as if an imaginary lightbulb just lit up above it.

"Oh..." I exclaimed again but in a lower imaginary tone. My hand slowly dropped to my side.

I finally understood what her sadness and apologies were about, as well as the reason why she was in the closet. It was because of me, I realized what I did to make her like that. I yelled at her. Last night, I didn't just yell at her twice, but I even cussed at her.

A moment of silence passed as I tried to compose my thoughts.

Honestly, I shouldn't care about this stuff. She is a child and I'm an almost legal-aged teen, yet, a child's emotions are bothering me this much. This was the reason for my distracted reading sessions, I was bothered by her, at what I'd done. I couldn't remember what I did at first, but now, I'm a bit bummed out about it. Indeed she was a ghost, and every other normal person would have done what I did. But if I had taken the courage to actually look at her closely in those past moments, then I wouldn't have been frightened, and if I just approached her with a cool head, then I wouldn't have yelled at her like that. Indeed I hate dealing with people, but now that I'm the reason, the cause of her sadness, I feel as though I'm now one of the people that I hate, and indeed I will become just like them if I don't do something about this.

I made a child cry, and there's no running away from this, since running away would mean leaving this room. But what should I do? I'm not really ready to apologize to her, I mean.. I want to do it for my peace of mind, yet I feel that I won't be able to say it clearly. If I were to speak to her and apologize, I would probably stumble a lot and end up saying gibberish with mixtures of umm and aah.

I sighed. Then, I paced around the living room with my hand on my chin, thinking of a way to apologize. I couldn't just set this aside, since this was the reason why I couldn't read. If I get over this hurdle, then I can read efficiently again, and maybe gain a few social points as well.

I continued to pace around for almost ten minutes or so, yet no decent solution came to mind.

I snapped off of my thinking for a bit and realized that I had paced my way into the kitchen. I was about to go back and think in the living room again when I caught a glimpse of something, my fridge. Then I realized what I could do to somehow make up with her.

I returned to the living room with a newly heated plastic container in my hand. I opened the closet and slid it inside, just close enough to where she could see it immediately when she woke up. I closed the closet and walked away. Inside the plastic container was something precious to me, something that was one of the remaining joys left in my life besides reading. It was food. I gave her my last serving of Chinese fried rice. I will probably starve in the morning as I wait for delivery, but at least I might get to be on good terms with her, and maybe this would be a sort of offering for her to leave. If I can make her happy, and fill her stomach, then maybe she would be able to move on and finally stop haunting my room. The only risk in this is if ghosts can't eat, which will be quite awkward.

With a slightly clear mind, I advance-ordered breakfast and jumped into bed.

A lot of things happened today. Many things that aren't necessarily bad, but not that good either. For one, I'm still alive today which is a disappointment. But because of my prolonged life, I was able to eat my two favorite foods again and even enjoy the comfort of my bathtub. I now even have a ghostly entity that haunts my room, well... my closet.

If you were to ask me if I would still kill myself, then my answer would be an immediate yes. There's no going back now, my life has been messed up so much that I won't be able to return to society. I don't even have the courage to leave my dim room, nor enjoy a shred of sunshine without feeling exhausted. I'm now fully used to the dark, be it physically or metaphorically. Maybe things would change, who knows? But what's certain is that my replacement curtain rod is one day closer to being delivered, and once it is, my suicide will be resumed. Only a few more days left.

I closed my eyes and went to sleep.