The ghosts of lovers past

I think my life is haunted.

And let's preface this by stating I don't like scary movies.
I'm that girl whose the only one screaming really loud in the movie theatre when someone reaches out their hand unexpectedly on the screen.
Even if the film is a comedy.

I don't do scary.
I don't do spooky or eerie or creepy.
And I don't do ghosts.
Especially not the most frightful ghost of all- The Dreaded Ex.


It's amusing to me that everything linked to Narcissus seems to be destroyed.  Three years ago my computer crashed and I lost everything on it including any pictures of him.  The road that led to his old townhouse has since been sealed off.  Even the old coffee shop we frequented has closed.  It's like life helped provide a memory vacuum for me without me having anything to do with it.

Mr. Volcano however won't get out of my life.  He is my ghost.  My tall, lanky, lurching around every corner ghost.  And it's starting to irk me.  It was amusing at first.  Hearing from Thing 1 and Thing 2 and still additional Who's from Whoville of the various disparaging remarks uttered from his lips made me feel honored to still be of such importance to him.  I even found humor in discovering he'd contacted Prince Charming, in hopes of securing some scandalous stories, no doubt.
But now there are actual dopplegangers of Mr. Volcano roaming about Portland and THAT, well, that just seems to be taking the haunting too far.

First his twin walked by my haven at Nordstrom.  And most recently he was spotted on Hawthorne clad in the same ratty old blue parka with red stripes on the sleeve.  I swear to God I nearly crashed my car into some biker I stared at the ghost for so long.
What the hell?!  Why is that slanderous coward everywhere??

I would like nature to see fit to casually delete all Mr. Volcano remnants from my life with the ease and thoroughness it did with Narcissus.

That would be KEEN.
That is my wish to nature.

Let's hope it reads my blog.