I stopped raising my hands in anger, nearly ten years ago. It was my form of AA, in a way. I’ve jumped off the wagon a few times, but for the most part, I have been fairly successful with it. Now…

(Coughs. Clears throat.)

My name is Greg Miller. I want to be a writer, because I enjoy it. And I am vulnerable.

To say I am guarded, is like saying a tiger prowls, or rain is wet. It is merely a fact.

Like many of you, I do not like feeling vulnerable, and I take measures to make sure I am not.

I have however, taken this to a very extreme measure for a large part of my life. I throw up walls, and obstacles, to ensure that I have a very secure perimeter around myself at all times, knowing that many will not take the time to look any farther.

Once the walls and obstacles are up and in place, I create a reinforced bunker capable of withstanding a direct, extended siege. I have stockpiled it with plenty of ammunition and explosives, for the inevitable firefight. My sights are Zeroed a few hundred meters down range, and I have coordinates locked in around me, should I need to call in artillery or a Spooky.

Vulnerable my ass!

One day while I was using a scope to watch my surroundings, I came across something, very unexpected, and something very new. I knew immediately that I was in trouble. Like deep down, instinctual warnings, kind of trouble. A woman like I had not seen before. One who was not armed for battle, but fought against it, with kindness, caring, and love.

The klaxon alarms I had set as a warning system did not trigger. Nor did the trip lines, lasers, or anything else. The weapons I pulled would not fire, the explosives would not detonate, the artillery never screamed in, and Spooky would not fly. The landmines did not detonate at her approach, and the bunker I had created fell apart when she was near. And where others did not bother to look, she saw right through me. I was vulnerable. I was in the open, exposed.

And I liked it.

I am a fairly strong individual, mentally, physically, and spiritually, and I have stood in front of everything that was thrown at me in life. I have my scars. I have shed my blood. I have fought my battles.

I never tried to throw any more defenses up after that day, she was worth the risk to me. She has been one of the only people in my life to ever, and I mean ever, let myself be that vulnerable with. I became a better man than I thought possible because of her. I do not fool myself in thinking otherwise. Had it been anyone else, at that time in my life, the outcome would have been drastically different. She is my one true love. She is my wife. And…

She is no longer mine.

I am vulnerable. Exposed. Out in the open.

I find myself looking out over a valley with no cover, high ground surrounding it on all sides, and too many ways in to be covered effectively. Strategically, this is the Valley of Death, and an odd thing occurs to me… It’s alright. I’m vulnerable, and it’s alright.

Many of the things that I am trying to do now, are because I am ready to. And I give that credit to her, for helping me grow into this man I am. Being able to even do these posts are something I never would have dreamed of being able to do. Taking the chances I am, because of the changes, in me.

I will continue to fight for her. I will fight for her because, it is what I want to do, and I will do it, being vulnerable. If it does not work out, then it does not work out, but I will not dismiss the chance due to not trying.

I am vulnerable, and I find that this state that I find myself in, feels, different somehow, and I am certainly understanding it more than I thought I ever would.

Being vulnerable, is a human state that allows us to open ourselves to those around us. It is not a place for ghosts. The ghost I have always been, was incorporeal in many ways. And when people do not try to look at a ghost very hard, it can feel as though that is going to be the state of your existence, until you fade away.

I feel like my life has in many ways, been lived in reverse. I came here as a corpse, dead to everything around me. Slowly, some spirit managed to grab a hold of that body, and give it an outline, and the potential to be more and over time became a poltergeist of sorts, able to interact, and function with the world around it. A woman, showed me how to live. To understand, that being vulnerable, was being human. To her; Thank you. Thank you for being my female Geppetto, because “I’m a real boy!” (Poor humor, gotta love it)

To everyone else; I hope that this very difficult admission from a ghost, can help you see, and accept, that being vulnerable is alright. It allows us to try something scary. It allows us to see things we would not normally see. It allows us, to live in a way, we may not have been able to in the past.

To those that do not want to look, or always saw the ghost;

Can you see me now!

Enjoy what you do.