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...sometimes...

Where's Darkside when I need a good long talk about that specific right kind of thing?

...fuckit.

Fuck it all.

I'm tempted to say, I've had it. I quit.

But I don't.

Even when I should.

Even when it makes me want to say it again later, louder, about other things far more vital to me.


Sometimes talking to Figment makes me feel like the nastiest, meanest, cruelest thing on earth, because he's so nice in contrast. And I wouldn't change him for the world.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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