The Living Dead....

He stood there, still, like a man frozen between two clocks. One that ticked too fast and another that had stopped altogether. Around him? Chaos, but not the kind that screams. No, it was quiet chaos. Dust-heavy air. Pages curling at the edges. Bullet-point dreams that never made it past the ink. Books unopened like doors he never dared walk through. A warzone of abandoned ambition.

His hands were strong. His back could carry weight. His lungs still held breath. But inside? Inside he was dragging chains. You couldn’t see them, but oh… they were there. Heavy. Cold. Forged by every damn day he said, “Tomorrow.”

Have you ever felt time punch you in the stomach? Not with fists… but with memories of all the days you wasted while pretending they didn’t matter? That’s what woke him up lately. Not alarms. Not goals. Guilt. Thick, sticky guilt that clings to your soul like molasses. Sunlight through the blinds didn’t feel warm anymore. It felt like judgement. Like God was peeking in, disappointed… watching another day rust in his hands.

He wasn’t always like this. You should’ve seen him at twenty-four. Fire in the eyes. Words like lightning. Plans on napkins, in notebooks, on voice notes. He believed. He believed in himself. And man, that belief felt bulletproof. “I’m gonna change the world,” he’d whisper to the mirror, steam on the glass, hope in his chest. But then came… the delay.

Not failure. Not rejection. Delay. That quiet killer.

It didn’t show up with red flags. No warnings. No thunder. Just a little whisper… "Later." That was it. One email unopened. One call ignored. One meeting missed. Nothing tragic. Just small wounds… a million of them. And he bled potential, silently.

It’s a strange pain… knowing you look alive, but you're leaking everything that ever made you feel powerful. Every “I’ll do it tomorrow” was a slow poison. But he drank it. Willingly. Smiling.

Michael didn’t. That guy? Same city. Same past. Same everything. But Mike moved. Mike showed up. At 5AM. In the cold. Tired, yes, but moving. He built while this man paused. And now? Mike’s flying. He’s living the life that once had this man’s name on it… and all this man has is a cracked phone screen and a timeline full of what could’ve beens.

You wanna know what real pain is? Seeing someone else live your dream while you scroll through it.

And bitterness… God, that stuff creeps in slow. It eats your edges first. Your smile, your spark, your swagger. Then it takes your beliefs. “Maybe I wasn’t meant for it…” he began to say. That was the moment the lie won.

His mom used to say, “Son, don’t dance with the devil of delay.” She meant it. Her voice… it still echoes. But she’s gone now. And he never got to show her who he was supposed to be. That regret? It doesn’t scream. It weeps. Quietly. Late at night.

He started things. So many things. The rush of a fresh idea was his drug. But he never stayed for the hard part. The messy middle. He’d bail. Every time. Not because he didn’t care. But because he was terrified. Of looking foolish. Of failing. Of judgment. So instead… he chose slow death. Comfortable decay.

And now?

Now he talks to the mirror like it owes him answers. Shouts at walls like they held secrets. “You coward… you had it. You had it…” His voice cracks, but no one hears. Because the world moved on. And he? He’s still standing in a room of dust and dreams.

You pass him on the street you’d never guess. Laughs. Nods. Polite. But inside? A man is dying. And no one’s at the funeral.

He wasn’t taken by tragedy. He wasn’t ripped away by fate. He was murdered by waiting. Choked by comfort. Strangled by hesitation.

You can’t rewind time. You can’t beg regret for mercy. You just sit. Among the ruins of your almost-life.

And now he looks at you. Straight into your soul. If he could reach through these words, he’d grab your shirt, clench his fist, and whisper something that would sting. “Don’t you dare become me.”

Because ghosts aren’t under your bed.

They’re in your mind.

They sit beside you when you’re too tired to try.

And they whisper...

"Just one more day."