The Ghost Abandoned

For her se didn't really know how to feel about it entirely. She didn't even know how it was possible for her to have seen it in the first place. For her it was impossible to believe that any such thing would even exist with the instance of impossibility and just overall uneventfulness of the day. She was fearful of the idea that this "phantom" or "ghost" she had witnessed that her own friends could not see disturbed her mind. She couldn't rest knowing what she had done to him, let alone talk about it with other people. She couldn't tell her friend and she couldn't tell anyone about what was bothering her. The ghost seemed to linger aimlessly throughout her life with no end in sight. It convulsed and plagued the many aspects of her life until she knew no way of leaving it behind, or ignoring it. What was even real in this instance? Was she even seeing what she was seeing, or was she imagining them? She was scared. She took what little things she could to try and make sense of what she was witnessing, a pencil, some scraps of paper, crayons, pens, anything she can use to depict this "ghost" that entered into her life almost unexpectedly. She drew him: over, and over, and over, and over. Until she couldn't decipher what her drawings were anymore. They just became the garbled and scratchy mess from what she could no longer interpret anymore. It was painful, not understanding why.