Two years ago I made a huge mistake. The mistake that probably kept me alive.
That kind of thing you regret and don't regret, at the same time.
Keep my soul alive was my motivation at that time. It was really important to me not kill my dreams. Because I was already dying.
But it doesn't matter for the others.
The fact that you made a mistake and fucked up someone's life more than once, doesn't mean they can react. They must be numb and die a bit after each day you live.
Facebook and friends made me remember it. But I didn't want to.