Dear ghost,
I have hundreds of string that fears me. I tried snipping the strings as I sailed into the wild, but they always seem to grow within me. I sought the kindness of raging storms and silent deserts, but I always lost sherds of glee. I battled the festering epidemic inside, but I always cursed the remedy. I tried to befriend the savage in me, but I always emerged broken and bruised. I fought to confine the bliss, but I always ruined the haven. All the sorrow starts and ends with me. All my tale is doomed by me. All my triumph is earned by me. I beget all my pain and pleasure. As always, I am my worst fear, yet my greatest strength. God forbid, I never lose me.
Yours even as I fear to be.