Lots of Short Stories

Watch The Minutes Go

Okay, so this is kind of.. a long short story? Really just a story, but anyway, trigger warnings for depression, and mentions of suicide but no explicit suicide. There's also no swearing in this one, mainly cos I wrote for another purpose, but it works out. I hope you enjoy :)

"Tell me again how you got here." I demand, sitting heavily down onto my slate grey bed and throwing myself backwards so that I'm lying down.

I told you, I can't really tell you, but I'm here for a reason, okay?

I huff angrily, irritated by this secretive voice in my head who won't say much about.. anything, really.

Listen, there's no need to get mad, I just-

"Who even are you? When'd you get here!" I hiss, fuming at the thought of another person inhabiting my head. It's not that I'm a control freak, but that it's unnerving as such.

You don't need to talk out loud, your roommate'll think you're insane-

"And why does that matter?!" I snap, lowering my tone nevertheless while keeking at the door.

It doesn't- but I just don't want people thinking you're weird!

"Why not?!" I sit up, setting my jaw and scowling at the wall.

Because I live in your head now, and if people get mad at you it's my fault!

"What? How?" I feel my eyebrows relax a little bit as I inhale quickly, reluctantly trying to calm myself down.

Well- it doesn't matter, okay? Just- take more deep breaths.

I huff; trying to settle my scowl as I inhale deeply, muttering about my annoyance, my eyes narrowed almost into slits. I toss my head to one side, and cast my eyes on the intricate details around my bedroom, like the dropped tissue that missed the bin, and the thin layer of dust on my bookshelf. I haven't read a book in a while, and the thought of that makes me exceptionally guilty, but I guess it doesn't matter a great deal.

My days are really just the same, with mindless hours of things online, and going to work in the stupid dress female employees are forced to wear. I've always hated dresses and the like, and I think I'd even go as far as to say that I hate most feminine things, but obviously I'm still a.. girl. I don't know- the word doesn't sit right, or.. feel right. When I'm talking about other people it's fine, but it feels so.. unnatural when talking about me. I don't know what it is, but I'm sure everybody does that.

I have one roommate, but we don't talk that often. She's really just an old friend, so we don't have much to connect about anymore. I don't know why things are so different, but I'm not sure I'd want to go back either. I don't really know where to go. I don't really have anywhere to go.

Yes you do! You could do so much with your life still! You might just need to.. kickstart it, and get a new job, or find a partner, or practice self-love, or something!

But why would any of that help me? I feel so.. stuck in this mundane world; it could almost be a trance, or a vision.

But it's not- it's real. The voice urged.

There's nothing else outside of this world, but there's more to it than your home and job! You could travel, or make new friends, or move somewhere else!

I don't know where I'd find the money.. my job doesn't pay that well. What are you, anyway? Why are you licensed to give advice?

Well, I-.. um... I'm kind of... a ghost?