don't do this, I don't do this to you, don't expect me to enjoy it

I'd played with the idea of writing all afternoon, but instead I'm virgo-ing around, tidying my rooms, fussing, furying, sticking my endings and beginnings. I have a pleasant coolness to my energy right now, and I'm painting my eyes "gunmetal." I'm getting dressed up to go to a fancy wedding on Ashlawn in horrible Charlottesville, and I'm in hematite and lace in the hope that their alleged properties of "staying grounded and calm" will work out for me. I'm looking forward to the night; I am, in spite of how tired and done I feel. I can't pretend it won't be nice, though, hours from now returning again to my soft mountain town in the September night, looking at a nearly-moonless sky.