For me, one of the most difficult things about coping with the loss of a person, in any sense, is dealing with the fact that you can no longer share your life with that person, or share that person's life. It's wanting to tell them good news and not being able to. It's wanting to ask advice about a problem and not having them there. It's wanting to hear how they're doing and not being able to ask. Losing a person is losing the ability to share, losing the privilege of it. In that sense, it may be a selfishness you might never have intended for yourself.

I hate being selfish. Even if it's for the best.

If you don't feel like you have roots anywhere, in anything, can you really feel like you know yourself? Or will you always feel transient and displaced? Unsure of who you are? What does it mean to be known? By yourself, by others?

And what is any of it worth without self-respect? I was sorry and then I wasn't sorry, and I think that's okay. In fact, I think it's better than okay.

"But what have I, but what have I, my friend,
To give you, what can you receive from me?"
The words that the others withhold, only,
And the hope you understand what I meant.

I still like my life.