I am haunted by the ghost of an Ivy League graduate, dead by suicide in his prime twenties for not being enough.
Since his death, he floats about. He is a hungry ghost.
He makes fun of people’s IQ’s. And he shakes his head in disgust when the lower classes make frivolous expenses in a gross attempt to be classy.
He’s whispering in my ear the painful things his mother wordlessly told him with tone and gesture: he tells me what he was expected to be but never fully became.
But all I want to do is my god damned homework.