When I started writing this I never thought about the variety of impacts it would have on you, only that it would hopefully allow you closure if you hadn’t achieved that already. Thinking about it now I can’t help but think you might feel a level of guilt about what I’ve done. I told you I accepted this life because it was to save yours. If I didn’t do Terrance’s bidding then you were the price I would pay. I don’t want you to think that you are the reason that anyone of my jobs met their demise. All those are on my head and my conscious and I can’t stress enough that you needn’t feel any guilt about it. You were, are, and always have been innocent throughout this whole ordeal and I want you to remain that way and trust that what I have planned will bring justice to the guilty parties, including myself. I’ll explain that later, because right now I want to make sure that none of my faults are translated to you.
I also can’t help but feel guilty for telling you any of this. I’ve thought that maybe I’ll stop writing this altogether, but every time I see you, when you’ve served me brunch every week for the last year, it takes everything I have not to break down and let you know it’s me. I thought you might recognize me, but twenty years can take a toll. I’ve heard that the one thing that doesn’t change is a person’s eyes, but the life that was behind mine has most definitely undergone a transition to where they could be foreign as well.
So, I’m writing because I need to tell you. I’m writing because I’m selfish. I’m writing because someone needs to know. I’m writing because if I don’t share then my life is absolutely meaningless and because this isn’t a dress rehearsal and we don’t get any do-overs, I’m writing so that I at least feel I’ve made an impact, even if it’s akin to the K-T Chicxulub Asteroid.
I am so, so, sorry.