(no subject)

I am so incredibly tired right now, and not in the physical sense, either. There's the tired that you get from not enough sleep, and the tired that you get from working your muscles longer than you're used to- and then there's the tired that you get when you just want the world to go away and leave you alone, even if it's only for a little while. That's the kind of tired I mean. Sleep doesn't help with that, because the world is still there when you wake up, and half the time you don't even have the knowledge of hours spent away from it all because you don't remember any of the dreams...

So far, in the past ninety-six perceived hours (I am given to understand a week or more passed in Milliways while I was outside of it), I have thwarted one suicide attempt, headed off another by means of a promise, informed a largely impotent security force of a virtually omnipotent threat, and come within fourteen angstroms of reviving the proton assault cannon, an act which would beyond a shadow of a doubt push me over to the dark side of the Force no matter how good my intentions might be or how quickly Tim would destroy the damned thing afterwards. I've robbed a museum in the name of helping my friends- yeah, it was to help everyone else here who's sick, too, but as far as I was concerned it was for Peter and Naraht. I've been tasked with pestering Security's powers-that-be until they start making reforms, on the grounds that everyone knows I'm the smiling harmless parapsychologist who doesn't know when to stop asking questions or shut up and go away. I have talked Peter partway back from the brink (his mother did the rest, I suspect) using Batman quotes. I mean, Batman! Come on! Admittedly it was a line spoken by Thomas Wayne, not Bats himself, but still. The point is that I've been backed into about nineteen different corners and I've had to dig or climb or claw my way out of each and every one, and half the time I've had to do it because the people who should've been handling the situation didn't or couldn't or hadn't. It got done, and that's the important part, but I'd really like to know- who died and made me Mr. Mental Health?

And why do I have to be the grown-up all of a sudden? Not in general terms, either. I'm well aware that I'm an adult and have to have maturity and responsibility. I mean that there are times lately, and they have been piling up like subatomic particles in a technetium cow, when I start feeling like I'm the only one who is! Peter's literally physically seventeen right now, which hopefully won't last much longer; that's affected his brain like you wouldn't believe. Naraht, well, Naraht's not human mentally no matter what his physical form looks like (damn nice physical form, too, but that's neither here nor there). Tim's still imprisoned and can't help, nobody on security actually seems to do anything except Barry, who's busting his ass to try and pull things together... honestly, if it weren't for Barry I'd feel like the only adult around here, and that scares the hell out of me. I can't do this alone. This is more than I ever signed up for.

Going home isn't going to help. There are people here who need me. But staying here isn't doing me much good either, because I don't see it doing much good if the parts of the situation that're out of my control don't change soon.

I'm just so damn tired.

And I miss Romana.