Dear ghost,
The real Love is a luxury. So we crave. Together is a miracle. If only you, only if you want. Rest are all mirage. So we hang on to the shadow. To the faint image that bind us.
The world is bound by rules so that emotions don't ruin us. The dystopian world is the representation of our anxiety. It's when our id and superego is not balanced. But the subconscious will ever fester.
We were born diseased. Whole life is an effort to cure the measly self. It's the desire we must conquer. It's the self we must control. The world before your eyes is beautiful. It's the human that isn't...
But how fascinating, lovely and precious you are?!
Your superego