Fatebook

To write sober letters is one thing. It is quite another to actually act more responsible, for lack of a better term. To feel it appears next to impossible. I find it hard to keep my own tongue in check. Harder still not to say what I really think. I wonder how long I can […]

The hardest part, as he had found out, was not about not touching him. Nor was it sober thinking and talking. The latter had come more easily than expected.

Monday night. All Sunday had gone by without a decision. And all Monday went by without thinking about said decision. At least that was the plan.

Thursday night she had snapped. Again. Friday Jason had been over and he still couldn’t get himself to even let Greg clean up the mess. By now, Sunday, the mess was still there, the perfect reflection of his own emotional chaos.

Lovely. You’ve got to appreciate politics for what they are. Give them a distraction and people will be all over it. Out of a sudden people are very interested in what happens to Hope. Or where the Sabbat might attack another two cities. Which comes in handy, because they’re much less likely to pay much […]

Somehow I thought I would get staked or something. None of the like happened. Yet there are so many implications to this that my head is spinning. And I’m not sure just who the old man hurt more.

I can’t protect him. And with any bad luck, I can’t protect the other one either. That is the main lesson from last night.

Much reason to feel elated. Just as much to feel depressed. My head is an insane mixture of both. And I don’t know just how far my sanity is going to last me. Doesn’t keep me from clinging to it as best I can. People sure are making that hard on me though.