162 of 365

I hear the dead inside my head even without being near a cemetery. Their voices are clear and distinct. When they enter my mind, I feel a tingling sensation for a few seconds. Then my head feels heavy. Once inside, they announce themselves. I don’t know why I continue to talk to them. Perhaps it is because they are my only friends, who keep me company when college gets boring. I dare not tell my parents or anyone about my talents. I am sure no one would believe me. I am positive they would have me tested.

It is a strange talent, speaking to the dead. It is even stranger that they respond to me. It is fascinating to see the extent to confide in me, a 19-year-old boy. But they must be happy to be able to converse with anyone. Do the dead talk to each other? I must ask one of them the next time. It never occurred to me earlier. I am proud of myself for keeping this secret though. But it does have it’s ulterior motive. I am not too fond of having needles stuck into me or of being called crazy. One of my visitors told me that was future if I even whispered this to another soul. So I zipped my mouth shut.

I enjoy talking to the dead. They also have interesting stories to share. All the naughty things they did that no one knows about. I feel mischievous and special being the only one who knows them. Many of them have regrets and sad thoughts about the life they left too early. When I die, I hope I don’t feel that way. I also hope, I can talk to someone. Just like those dead already have me. I am sure I would be lonely otherwise.