Ghost Notes

"But how can you ever go back to living a life that no longer exists? Home is everchanging and nothing remains. I wander like a ghost, leaving notes for the ones I've lost along the way." | A collection of poems, prose, and notes written by Harry as he found himself far from the place he once called home.


2. 2.

T H E  C O L L E C T O R


I haven't always been a writer, but I've always been a reader. But not like, just a reader. I used to be one of those people that would copy down quotes, or witty things, or just sentences that I liked in books. I kept journals full of them. Don't know why. Might've been because I never quite knew how to say things myself. I always felt that I couldn't quite get across what I felt in my own words, you know? You do, you know. You've seen me do this constantly, you've asked why I fold pages in books and why in the hell I mark your treasured hardcovers with my inky pens.

So maybe I am a collector. A collector of words?


Not as boring as collecting stamps, but who blatantly admits that they collect words? 

Maybe it's because I just can't percisely make out what to say to you. That might be it. Everything that I've ever wanted to say is fragmented in pieces. It's in songs, in movies, in books. It's everywhere. You're everywhere. 

I can't be a writer because everything I write is a remenant of something that I read. It's a piece of what I feel for you. Flip a page to any one of my stories, you'll see yourself there. Listen to me singing my favorite song, it's most likely the words I've never been able to say to you.

I don't want to tell you that it makes up for the years we haven't spoken. We don't talk enough, we never do. Perhaps we fill dead space with words that we hope will mean more than they do, but they don't. 

So I'll tell you the truth:

I don't know what to say to you, I never have. 

You're everywhere, 




But I don't know how to find my way back to you. 

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