My Ghost Town

I recently visited an old “ghost town”, spectacular in one sense, but sad lonely and neglected at the same time.

So many things about the decaying ruins of what was once a booming town struck me. What were they used for? Why were they abandoned?

I observed nature taking the structures back to their natural elements. The buildings no longer had roofs, no doors or windows, just the empty spaces where they once protected those who lived within them. The stone crumbling, the walls held up by supports.

I took a lot of photographs, that did not fully hit me until I looked at them. I feel like these ghost towns, forgotten, no one knowing what my purpose is or was, neglected, left to decay. This made me reflect on my parents who have not been in my life for over a quarter century (with a blip in between where they temporarily gave into my persistent requests to have them in my life, then they vanished again). Because my parents never wanted me (and never held back telling me this) I have felt hollow, empty.. seeing the ghost town I felt like it reflected how I felt, lost, abandoned, forgotten.

I did break down for a while as I reviewed my life and my family, but I refuse to allow it to completely break me. I could look at those ghost towns and see them as a source of sorrow for me, but I look at them as something I can identify with. I want to see more. I want to see as many as I can. I want to try to find their history, somewhere there must be a story that exists.

While I may never know my family, I can find a connection to these forgotten, abandoned ghost towns.

I had so much more I wanted to say on this, but the words refuse to cooperate. I stop and I think of the comparison, and words simply can not convey how it makes me feel. It hurts, it burns, but if it helps me understand and deal with it all better, I will take that pain.

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