After returning home, the silence feels noisy, if that makes sense. I don’t know how else to describe it; I’ve never felt this way before.
While i miss my reason, Jessica keeps blowing up my phone. I’ve always been honest with her—I genuinely enjoyed her company and appreciated everything she shared and showed me, but our time together had an expiration date. Now, I’m unsure how to handle this. I care for her, but there’s no room for her in my life. I try to let her down kindly and ask her to stop contacting me.
I can’t stop reflecting on everything that’s happened—on the pain and hardships I witnessed secondhand, on my life’s goals, my purpose, and the idea of giving.
I’ve never donated money before because I knew most of it would end up with organizations, well-paid employees and managers. But now, I feel I can make a real difference in people’s lives—people who would value it and use it to improve their futures in meaningful, forward-looking ways. I’m supporting Nicolas financially with school fees for his two kids and helping Esther, Jessica’s daughter, with her captain’s education while mentoring her. Still, it feels a bit like a buyout to ease my guilt for leaving Jessica behind with her feelings for me. I don’t think there’s a better way to handle it, though. I just want to help and hope I’m truly making a difference now.
