Ghosts aren't real. They're a child's fantasy. Ghosts aren't real because people aren't real. In fact, the child who fears the existence of ghosts isn't real. You are not real.
You are complicit. Distance is not innocence. Absence is not innocence. No one needed to place the plans in your hands or ask for your permission. You understood enough to look away, enough to avoid certain questions, enough to accept that someone else would bear the consequences of your silence. You tell yourself you were never there, that you never touched anything, that no one warned you what was coming. But responsibility does not wait for an invitation. It settles wherever it finds an empty place. You left one waiting for it, and it chose you.
Why the need for such chaos? I have asked myself that often enough to suspect the question is only another habit. A quiet mind leaves too much room for footsteps that cannot be explained, so I clutter the halls with impossible things until I can no longer tell which noise belongs to me. Disorder is easier to supervise than silence. My thoughts do not arrive in lines; they arrive all at once, arguing, interrupting, rewriting one another before the ink has dried. The doctors would have preferred a diagnosis. The priests preferred a confession. Neither seemed interested in the possibility that my mind is not broken at all, only overcrowded. If there is something else living here, it has become difficult to determine whether I invited it in or whether it has spent all these years pretending to be me.
Just because nothing here is true, that doesn't necessarily imply that you are being lied to. Of course, you are. The mistake is believing those statements cannot exist together. Truth has never been particularly loyal, and lies have always been more comfortable when wrapped around something that almost happened. Every page on this site was written after the event it predicts, every memory recorded before the person who remembers it existed. You have mistaken impossibility for protection. It isn't. If you leave now, this paragraph will insist that you stayed. If you remain, it will quietly revise itself until it has always known your name. There are no accurate accounts here, only accounts that become accurate once someone has finished reading them.