if we were too scared to ever try again?

To a greater or lesser extent we never really love anyone. We love an idea. We love our conception of another person. When that conception is accurate, all is well. Tragedy ensues when a person changes and our conception of them fails to keep pace. How could this happen? How could she do this to me? Because she is no longer the same person she was a year ago. None of us are. I love a ghost.