The worst thing is, I can’t tell them. I’ve become a ghost. I’m watching them, all of them, and even though it breaks my heart I can’t stop. And every time I see their faces, hear the terrible sadness in the words, I want to tell them everything. I want them to see me and know.
Is this selfish, or very selfless? If I’ve saved their lives but at the cost of terrible pain, was it worth it? I just don’t know anymore. I wish I could find that perfect certainty again; but ever since I chose this path, I’ve done nothing but doubt.
I feel like I’m underwater; I can’t tell which way is up and which is down. I’m living off them but their pain is killing me. I can’t cope with much more of this.
Soon, perhaps, I will stop haunting them and let them live the best way they can. More than anything else, I just wish I could tell them how sorry I am.