08/19/25

My bedroom walls are painted with ghosts that howl at me and rush by whenever I need a solid interruption. I can’t tell why they choose to bother me—especially at night, when the moon has reached its peak in the sky. The moon rises and falls with the memories that put me to sleep, like white noise lullabies, static frequencies that never quite let me settle and relax into my down-feather pillows. 

            I have several sets of pillows, along with weighted blankets and a few stuffed pillows. 

            I hoot like an owl at the thought of morning. The bright, big sun rises to taunt me with joy and actions I can take.

            I want to.

            I always want to take further action towards my progress.

            I lack the knowledge of precisely what action to take to make the most significant stride forward. So, I sit and wait.

            It’s the sunk-cost fallacy affecting my life. I believe because I’ve spent so much time healing my wounds and sitting with them until they improve, I can’t move on from this phase of my life to what’s next.

            I should skydive into the abyss of the Southwestern sky and override my fearful programming and heartbreak. If only for a moment. However, I forget that my body has not yet caught up with my mind, and it tugs on me like a weight on my lower back. It still holds me back from running towards the finish line for now.

            I cannot cross the barrier from wounded to free too soon. I must train.

            I still need to move slowly and methodically as I trudge along the terrain of my disconcerted reality.

            I don’t have the built-up muscle for free yet. I’m almost there. I work hard and strive towards it.

            Even though time is passing by me now ever so slowly, it lulls me into daydreams and fantasies abound until all I am is an obtrusive thing writing at my secretary’s desk. 

            The sun has not yet peeked in on me and granted my wish: to be able to run forward freely without the weight I carry like a second skin.

            Something tells me I’ve already crossed the finish line at this point in time, but freedom echoes occasionally calling me back, beckoning me with childhood nostalgia.

            The time has come to make peace with these ghosts tattooed on my walls like wallpaper; I still have so much to learn about the world and truly understand it, and these ghosts are asking me to learn about them. To know them, to confront them, and to set them free so I can run forward. 

In pursuit of steadiness, one thought at a time,

Nicole Asbjorn