Dear ghost,
Maybe, love is not for me. Cascade of romance is an excursion too costly to ask. Perhaps, it demands ingenuity I greatly lack, or a kindness I desperately need. I am not a half of another. Perchance, I am just merely incomplete and my very self can realise me. There is no God or a worshiper who can lay waste to my kingdom. My rendezvous are a closeted delulsion of those sick with fairly tales. Possibly, it is life that I am meant for. Therefore, I must survive.