Once upon a time, there was a man who wished to be an ice sculptor. He took a block of ice and a chisel and got straight to work. He sculpted a woman, as beautiful as any other. He sculpted her to be his perfect complement, the woman he wished was real. He sculpted her with a smile and open arms, with kind eyes and a perfect body. After he was finished, she was absolutely lovely, and absolutely everything that he had ever wanted his ice sculpture to be. But then he went on to sculpt other things, and she started to become a further and further thought, distanced from his mind as his other projects became more important. One day, he realized he'd forgotten all about his first piece of work. She'd started to crack and melt in places, but she was still almost perfect. Instead of fixing her, the sculptor broke her in pieces with his chisel so he didn't have to worry about fixing her.
I wrote this on Facebook in 2012? I have no guarantees as to the sober-ness to this thought