Caught up with an old friend of mine yesterday.

And for once I opened up about my old line of work... I talked about working in      .      . .

I guess this is me coming to terms with it. But I still have all the guilt. Talking about it makes me feel better, but it doesn't undo my actions. I still hate myself for making those decisions, but I needed to do it... one sacrifice for the sanctity of the many. That was what kept me sane. That was what helped me sleep at night when all I wanted was to sleep forever because I knew deep inside, I didn't deserve to be able to open my eyes to greet the light of a new day.

I still do loathe myself. But... what's the point.