June 27: The rain is full of ghosts tonight. Specters that move silently through the haze as I sit here staring out the window. Faces that I was sure I had left behind. I wasn't ready to see them again. But they chase me now. In memory and in real life. Perhaps I deserve it. For now I will take the roses next to the bed and throw them, one rose for each fading face. One more memory gone. One more lie to tell myself. One more nightmare to ignore. The rain is full of ghosts tonight. And I will put on my leathers and go out to find them all. Collect them, and hold them close. Even the ghosts deserve to be warm on a rainy night.