I’ve a ghost who ghosts me

I’ve a ghost who ghosts me. It doesn’t knock, it doesn’t call. It just shows up, uninvited, as if it owns the space in me. I want to name it, to give it some meaning, but every day it changes a new face, a new silence, a new story.
I don’t know what it is or why it stays.
I only know it exists, somewhere, everywhere.
I can’t see it. I can’t touch it.
I can’t hold its hand yet it grips me tighter than anything real. It stays when I need someone the most. It stays even when I beg it to leave. Sometimes, I talk to it for hours & in those moments, it feels like everything I hide finds a place in it. But the more I give, the more it throws back at me. My secrets, my truths, my lies they don’t stay mine anymore. It weaves a cage around me, a cage of fear & locks me in. When I cry, it watches. When I smile, it whispers “That won’t last” & when I dare to dream, it reminds me of every time I’ve fallen. Still, it’s always there. Not as a friend, not as an enemy, but as something I can’t escape. Sometimes I wonder is it my shadow?
Is it my guilt? Or is it just… me?