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That was liberating.

My sleep schedule is a joke. If I try to go to bed before midnight, I wake up at midnight. That's what happened. I was exhausted on Sunday, so I took that "nap", and then now I'm awake; I won't have much of a Monday left by the time I get some more sleep and wake up again.

While I was awake, I did bounce some things off John. The constant underlying frustration of the social aspects of the friendship with Darkside reached an abrupt boil as of 2 seconds after his mom told me he wouldn't be expected home until after 9. I have faith that this, as always, is something that needs screaming out between the two of us, and goodness knows that since he is his own man and not an extension of me, he'll probably have a far different perspective on it that will knock me sideways and completely out of my egocentric rut, but still as we've not really talked this one out lately, I'm still somewhere between pissy, furious, irate, and living in hope when it hurts to hope.

(No one said love cured all problems. Whole new can of worms. But goodness knows that without this friendship, I'd be in a far worse place. Could be I wouldn't even be in a place, if the Catholic Limbo actually exists.... So I take what comes up in stride, because, well, I'm alive and I'm reasonably happy, and I love him very much. But I still get fucking frustrated.)

I have a nice long soul-baring rant typed out to deliver to him, but I'm waiting on sleep and sanity to actually send it, because it would be just stupid to e-mail out something like that without benefit of a cold quiet sane eye of proofreading and general sanity-smackitude.

Ned and Priscilla are giving me courage to get things said; Priscilla and Luna, and Edward and Lavinia, are giving me general hope. Reading RP is good for the soul.
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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