I am sad. And tired. So tired. I had come into this filled with a sense of duty and the desire to commit shameful acts for the benefit of many.
They are shameful because I am a betrayer. I know that. I secreted myself among them, picking them up from the roadside with the intent of destroying their lives.
I like to think I have found friends, but none of them know me. They know a different me.
I lost my mind for a while. I saw things that couldn’t possibly exist. I saw words and people and stars and while those are the elements that make up a well-lived life, I know that what I saw wasn’t real. My words, my people, my stars are those of a trickster. I have no true understanding of those things because my intent was to break them, to vilify that which defined them.
They are my friends.