All Alone in the World

Dear Diary,

It’s day 43, and there’s been very little movement. Even less than usual. Most days she leaves with a giant water bottle for about an hour or two, spends some time on the computer, makes a few meals in between. But today she is very still, mostly on the couch. Makes for a particularly boring day for me, as you can imagine. Usually, I can at least observe the people that show up on her screen. Peak at the inside of other people’s houses, wave at their ghosts.

Hopefully tomorrow she does something interesting because today DRAGGED.

Dear Diary,

I miss the last people who lived here. There were two of them, and they always had something going on. There were parties every few weeks, and so many conversations I got to listen to! Then, when they were gone during the day, that’s when I got to move stuff around and have my giggles.

The lady who lives here now is alone. She didn’t move much today AGAIN. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s in the same clothes as yesterday, too. Normally when single people move in there’s at least a cat or a dog to play with, but she brought nothing! Can you believe this lady?

Dear Diary,

As much as I miss the exciting people, at least this new lady has good taste in TV. She put on a crime drama that took up most of the day. The story changed every hour, but the main characters stayed the same. In every episode they solved almost remarkably easily. The clues led to people, and the people led to answer. Then the problem is solved! I was bold and sat right next to her while she watched them.

I don’t know why she watches these dramas. Is she trying to learn how to solve murders? A little dubious of her. She hasn’t done anything to suggest that scenario, which stumps me further. At least the mystery of her life gives me something to do.

Dear Diary,

Today I have a plan. I’m going to make the lady do something. She’ll have no choice but to get off the couch and change her clothes! To be continued.

Dear Diary,

The plan did not… go as expected. She did end up changing her clothes and leaving the apartment, but now she hasn’t been back in hours and I’m even MORE bored! I thought she would enjoy my little game.

When she put the kettle on the stove for her afternoon tea, I kept turning the heat off when her back was turned. Over and over again -on, off, on, off. It was funny to me, and she was so confused! But eventually she took the kettle off entirely, put on a different Big T-Shirt and left the apartment.

What a genius I am. She didn’t even leave the crime dramas on for me.

Dear Diary,

She finally came back. She was gone all night, until the early morning. She came in looking like she had been somewhere hot because she was very sweaty. Hair was coming out of a normally tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she held a light paper bag that smelled like special plants.

I know what it smells like because I’ve seen it before. It goes right through me (ghost joke!)

Dear Diary,

I don’t normally feel worried about the people who live here. After all, I’m the dead one.

But this one has me worried. I couldn’t cheer her up with my tricks, and yesterday I heard her CRYING in the bathroom! I don’t go in the bathroom, out of a great respect for privacy. From what I remember about when I was alive, crying alone was not a sign that someone was feeling good about themselves. Even the people in the crime dramas cried with other people around, when a friend died or when they had to talk about something terrible. Crying alone is not a good sign.

Dear Diary,

I decided that I need to do something. Not more tricks (right now at least. Even though they’re so fun!!). What always makes people feel better is a friend. She clearly has none, so I will save her the trouble of finding one and insist on our friendship.

This is where it gets hard though… If I’m being honest, I don’t have any friends either. I would wave at the ghosts on the lady’s computer screen, but they almost never waved back. They were all either sad or scary, and the people next to them looked like that too.

Which is fine for them. Living with a sad person isn’t hard when you’re also sad. My problem is that I’M NOT SAD! I’m GRATEFUL to be a ghost. I love knocking dishes on the counter when the cat is nearby. I like playing ding-dong-ditch with the neighbors. And I especially like watching people live in my apartment.

Until now.

Dear Diary,

Today I decided that I needed to learn more about this person before I know how to help her. I need to know who this person is! She hasn’t exactly been transparent with me (ghost joke!)

I tried looking at all her stuff more carefully and I learned three things about her:

1. She has lots of books about talking to people. Talking to them on the computer, all at once, in writing, etc. This is very interesting. If only I was still a person.

2. She likes cats, which surprises me since she doesn’t have one. But there are pictures of them all over her bedroom, in little corners.

3. Even though I only see her in a Big T-Shirt, she actually has a lot of fancy clothes. I recognized a blazer or two from her computer meetings, but there’s so much stuff in here I’ve never seen before! Dresses and pants and silky tops.

After thinking long and hard through my research, I think I understand her better now. I can’t wait to tell you how my plan works out!

Dear Diary,

My plan did not work out. I waited until she went out for groceries. I know she goes every ten days exactly, I just had to wait for her to leave.

I know she likes cats, so I went to visit Avocado in the apartment next door. Avocado is a bright orange cat, and I thought she would like to meet a new cat! So, I lured the kitty in with bits of canned tuna that my person left out. I opened the door juuust enough for him to sneak in and lay on the pile of clothes I put on her bed. To make sure he stayed, I dumped the rest of the can of tuna right on the clothes. And it worked! Everything was going to plan! Only one more step.

Avocado’s mom would notice his absence after a while. I left some clues as to his whereabouts, including some loose fur outside my person’s door. When my person got home, there were several people just WAITING to talk to her! She loves to talk to people! I thought this was going to turn it all around for her. No more sweatpants, no more crime dramas (that part I’d miss).

But when my person sees the people, then the cat on the tuna on the clothes, she looked more upset than ever. The neighbor looked mad, the people who came with her looked annoyed, and even Avocado looked uncomfortable. He and his mom went home in a bad mood, and when everyone left my person cleaned up the tuna and went into the bathroom to cry again.

Dear Diary,

I still feel bad about what happened yesterday. Today she looks worse than ever! But she’s started talking to herself a little, which has been very helpful.

“I can’t believe you did this to yourself, Marisa… No wonder this move didn’t work out for you; it was too good to be true and you should have seen that.

“Now, you’ve got nothing. No job, no family, no friends. Just an overpriced apartment and a lot of snow on your car.”

I can’t believe how off track I was. She didn’t say anything about a cat! OR her nice clothes! She does sound lonely though.

Apparently, she moved here from a long way away, and I’m guessing she stopped working when the computer meetings stopped, and the Big T-Shirt came out. She doesn’t think she has anyone around, but she doesn’t know that I’m here with her.

Dear Diary,

I still haven’t figured exactly how to fix Marisa’s life, which honestly might be too big of a problem for one ghost. Every day I listen to her, looking for clues.

“Three years ago, I had such a different idea of what my life would look like. I could practically see my future playing out before me – successful, surrounded by friends, opportunities coming in left and right.

The day I got fired felt like sabotage. I felt … so abandoned. Abandoned by my work, my colleagues. My dreams.”

Then she got quiet for a bit.

“I think I abandoned myself for a while, too.”

I didn’t know what to do. I hardly remember my life from before, but I understand how she feels. I floated over to her and sat next to her, feeling her sadness.

It occurred to me that maybe I can’t do anything for Marisa except float next to her when she thinks she’s all alone in the world.

Six Months Later

Dear Diary,

As of today, Marisa has been at her new job for two months now! TWO MONTHS! Every day since she started, I’ve been making sure everything goes smoothly for her in the mornings. If she left the coffee pot on, I turn it off. If she forgot to hang up her towel, I hang it up for her. Her little self-talks have gotten so much better, too. She talks about her new co-workers, the new kind of work she’s doing. It’s been a long time since she cried in the bathroom.

Dear Diary,

Today there are big, empty boxes in all the rooms. I’ve been around here long enough to know what this means.

Dear Diary,

I wish I knew where Marisa was going. Is she going back home? To another building? To a different ghost? I’ve come to really like Marisa. She doesn’t watch her crime dramas anymore, instead she watches these HILARIOUS cartoons about other adults who don’t have their lives together! It makes her laugh a lot.

I hope she puts them on the tv many times before she moves out.

Dear Diary.

I watched Marisa pack up the last of her things today. The last two days she had friends (friends!) come over to help her. I feel better knowing she has people now, and that she isn’t so lonely anymore.

But today it was just her. Grabbing things from the bathrooms and a few spare items of clothing. She stood in the middle of her room, looking out the window. I walked her to the door, and as she reached for the doorknob, I stood in front of her and gave her a short hug.

I don’t normally touch people – I never know how people will respond. But I felt like I needed to do something to acknowledge our time together, to let her know that she was never alone.

She stopped in her tracks when she felt my cold, wispy skin on hers. I thought she was going to panic. Scream, maybe. But instead, she looked around, looking at everything one more time.

“Thanks” she told the empty walls. A tear, and a smile, rolled across her face. Then she was gone.