Dear ghost,
I am withering in the filth of my envy. Tell me, of what dirt I am made of? At least today, you owe me an answer.
Like I said, I am my worst fear. My traitor. The torturer of nights and days. I have no one but myself to blame. How wretched of me to only remember this at the dead of the night.
In the daylight, when the rays fall on others, I strangely gnaw on their wrongs. It seems like they are the cause of my pain. Like they are chopping my limbs in two and my heart in four.
But it is me. It is I. It is me who ruins my day. I am my worst fear. My greatest enemy. My injurious traitor. My vicious judge. My irredeemable oppressor. Therefore, show me what I am capable of.
But then again, life only tells me that I am the only one who can help myself. How tragic the saga of creature who need to save herself from her self.
Yours even as I fear to be.