Walking With the Ghosts

Waking up in Paris should be dreamy and romantic. What girl doesn't want to wake up here? Not this one. It's not any better than sitting in my apartment back home. I though it would be different here, but it's the same. Christmas was uneventful, as usual. John Michael said that he would come out, but he was a no show. I was excited for about ten seconds, but I knew that he wasn't coming. I wish he would have. I really miss him. New Year's was fun, though. I dropped by my parents' for dinner then ended up partying with tourists under the Eiffel Tower. 

"I hope you find what you're looking for."  That was the last thing my brother said to me when he dropped me off at the airport for my trip.  I suddenly hoped the same thing, but how do I find what I'm looking for if I don't know what it is?

Sometimes, I just drift through the streets of Paris like a ghost. I want to be inspired and to find that thing that Jon Michael hoped for me, but it's just not here. I like going down to the catacombs beneath the streets. It's peaceful there, me and the other ghosts. When I first came to Paris a couple of weeks ago, my mother took me around to the touristy places and we ended up there. She rattled on about the history, but I was mesmerized by the thousands of skulls that stared back at me. I didn't hear a word of what she was saying, all I could do was wonder who loved these lost souls. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe, but then I think of this place and I wonder, who could love this lost soul?

I was supposed to meet my mother for lunch today, but I think I will walk with the ghosts of the catacombs instead.

Walking With the Ghosts: these lost souls