It's my own fault.

I prayed to every god for a sign.

I asked the universe to show me what I thought I wanted.

I can't believe I was so stupid to want this.

This isn't how I wanted to see her. This isn't what I imagine her to be. No, she was supposed to be beautiful, kind, and lovely, just like me. Heaven is supposed to make you happier than you've ever been.

Whoever I see before me can't be her. This person — this ghost — she's horrid, appearing almost melted. Each feature runs into the next until she's hardly recognizable from her pictures.

You can't melt in heaven.