In life, I was known as Gwen Barlow. Gwen Barlow, on the outside, wasn’t a mystery. Youngest child in the Barlow family, with her father’s dark hair and hazel eyes and her mother’s short, Raquel Welch-like body.

In high school, Gwen Barlow was the certified psycho, with rainbow- colored hair and a “quirky” wardrobe, whom everyone stayed away from for fear of catching her disease...weirdness.

As an adult, Gwen Barlow was an independent woman of the 90's. A true New Yorker, except lacking the accent, she had matured a little, only wearing two colors in her hair, although neither color were natural.

Gwen Barlow was also an artist, painting pictures that no one ever painted, images that other artists didn’t dare paint.

Now Gwen Barlow was just another name on a headstone in a graveyard.

Yes, I was dead. I’m not sure when it happened. I remember standing next to my body, trying to get it to move, but it remained still. I remember I cried and ran away, telling myself that if I didn’t see it, it wasn’t real.

But when I came back, my body still didn’t move.

I walked away, and I still walk. I have no physical manifestation. People don’t see me or hear me, and walk through me. It doesn’t hurt much. It’s only a small discomfort now.

But it is my soul that walks. It walks for all time, for I am scared and lonely and cannot leave. As a girl, I believed in Heaven, and that when I died, that’s where I would be.

The pathetic disillusions of a child.

I don’t know how long I’ve been walking. My sense of time is shot to hell now. I know I walk the same street, not because I’m not sure where I am, but because I’m scared to leave.

I know this area. It’s where I died.

I don’t remember my death. It’s as if my soul has lost my memories. I only remember feelings, and important names and faces. I remember my family, my best friend Becca, my Nicky-Baby...I remember him most, along with my soulmate.

My beloved Alex.

He pretended to not like it when I called him that, instead of AJ, but I know he secretly loved it. He is all I ever think about now.

As I walk my street, I wonder how he is, how he’s dealing with my absence. I wonder if he hurts as much as I do. And every few minutes, I raise my eyes to the sky, where at one time I thought I would go, and once again, I utter my greatest wish.

I wish I could see him.

That is not to be and I wonder why. I wonder why he has to be alone, why I walk this street, where am I going. I was always curious, and have managed to retain that quality even now. I wonder so many things...most of all, why did I die?

But these are my standard thoughts as I walk, thoughts that constantly clutter my mind, that and the bitter winter cold. Winter in New York is brutal. I am not the exception.

They say that the cold doesn’t affect people like me, but judging from my frozen ears, they are wrong. The cold gives no comfort, as it is only a reflection of what my body is now. Cold. Every part of my body is cold.

Except for my heart and soul.

They are warm because of Alex.

©2000 Eyes of Stone