You don't know.
They don't know.
They expect me to run around saving the galaxy, acting like a fucking puppet on a string, solving all of their problems just because they asked me to. But they don't fucking understand. What its like to be me.
Do you not realise that every time I kill a Cannibal, Marauder or whatever other abomination the Reapers have conjured up from their own personal little circle of hell, that I know that...thing...used to be a person? That Marauder could be Garrus's cousin for all I know. That Husk could have a wife, a 9 to 5 and kids. You can argue all you want that the Reapers did this. That at their hands, these people have had everything that made them who they are taken away, and that, if anything, I'm doing them a favour by ending it all. But I don't see it like that. I can't see it like that. These could be ordinary good people and I'm murdering them by the dozen, then calling it a victory.
Don't call me a fucking hero. Don't parade me around as some symbol for hope, a beacon amongst the darkness of this shit-hole that used to be our galaxy. I'm sick of it. I'm nothing. I'm a murderer. I can't even try and console myself with the thought that at least I'm saving lives. Who exactly am I saving? Ashley, Legion, Mordin, Thane. That little boy back on Earth. I couldn't save them, so what the fuck makes everyone think I can save anyone else?
I've lost my friends. I've died. I've taken the lives of thousands of people who, thanks to Reaper mind-fucking, had no control whatsover. They were innocent. I'm not.
Don't come running to me the next time you find yourself in a shitstorm.
Because you just don't understand.