I am so angry

I am so angry that there are iron spikes shooting out of my back, and we all know what that means. I'm going to have to buy a new shirt. I will send Jackson the bill.

I am so hurt that I want to find a cave and lick my wounds, but the shadows are too deep.

I am so eager for a fight that my fists itch, and my teeth ache.

I am so choked with sorrow for John, and DK, and Ben, and Rockne, and them all, that I want to cry breathless tears, yet quite strangely fear R would think less of me. I am not one to hide from tears. Never have been.

I am so incapable of processing violent collective emotions, of shielding myself, that I don't want to open my inbox ever again.

I am so tired that my mother will have a massive coronary when she gets off the plane and sees me in a few hours.

I am so warmed to feel John still smiling over my shoulder -- that I think he is a silly man with horrendous timing, but the wisdom to be much further along the path than I am. I will catch up; he will drag me.

They should have the wisdom to fear, but they don't.

I will blog calmly and reasonably tomorrow -- about plans and tactics, pep-talks and digging in, loyalty and endurance, families to protect, carrying on for tired friends while they rest. Love stories and beginnings. Myself and the freedom of space. My freedom. Stars and a starry-eyed John.

I feel now. I think later. I have earned it.

Marry, bless her heart, has gifted me with time.

Sorry, I must now climb on top of my house and burst out laughing, before I scare my new neighbors.

This... this is... this is it?

Do I look stupid to you? No, don't answer that question.