Dear ghost,
As expected, I only have pain in my legs and an ache in my heart. I remember losing my breath as I climbed the trailing footpath tucked between trees. We headed towards the monastery atop. It was a monastery so sacred throughout the history of my kingdom. I remember running down that trail, leaving many devotees behind. I ran for I had a story to write. That was why I was there.
But for what I was there, that reason was lost in the debris of haste and importance. Yet they narrated my name in a story that was not mine. It looked similar but it was not mine. It is not mine. I did not write it. I did not decide it. IT IS NOT MINE so donot say it is my story.
yours even as I fear to be.