Simply saying these things does not make it that much easier to know how to begin with it all. But I suppose I can focus on... I don't know, weaving. Hence the blanket and whatnot.

[He shrugs helplessly. It's not as if he doesn't know to rely on his friends. They are the core of his strength, but at the end of the day it is him who stands. Who must stand.

When has he last cried? Has he ever given himself that moment? Oh, he has felt grief, has gotten close, but the road goes on and on. When was there ever time?]

Mayhap it will come to me. If I need it.