The wraith arises when it’s quiet and peaceful. When others are not near or when they still sleep. The wraith does not care if others are near as long as they are unconscious.

Precious is the wraith’s time of peace. All too soon, the others will return or they will arise. In either case, peace will turn to chaos, silent joy to suffering and turmoil.

There is no hunger for the wraith when it is quiet. There is no desire for sustenance. Only the calm of being neither hungry nor full, merely satisfied, as if there were no such thing as desire.

Near the open windows, the air is cool, but the wraith must not leave the protection of these walls. The cool air is pleasant, but the sky is too bright, too painful for his eyes. The beauty of green can only be enjoyed from within the shadows.

The wraith bleeds, not all the time, but periodically. The injury was deliberate, to correct a greater injury, but recovery is slow. The wraith does as he can to slowly purge old blood and mucus, but it reforms. How much of this is left for the wraith to endure?

Footsteps. Chaos returns. If he is minimalist, perhaps the others will be minimalist as well and not overly address the wraith.

The wraith has almost no voice. He wishes this of the others as well, not because they speak ill of him, but because they speak to him at all. When they speak, the peace recedes. He must leave his own mind. He must consider the thoughts of others rather than his own pain.

I am the wraith. I have been ill. I have endured surgery. I continue to bleed. The early mornings are best for peace. Peace of mind and soul. I need to retreat to heal. I need to heal in order to become human again. I need to become human again in order to live, and to breathe, and to act, and to interact.

Where have all the days and nights gone? Why does it seem that I will be a wraith for so many more days and nights ahead?

I seek release from torture, and return to routine. Yet I feel helpless to affect my fate. When will the illness go away? When will my surgery heal? When will I be able to breathe again?

There is no voice that can answer my cries. I can only proceed a day, an hour, and then check again how I feel.

I am the wraith. When will I once more be a man?