I walked hobbled into the living room early this morning and my two best friends were naked on my sofa. DAMMIT. MY SOFA. kissing each other and being cozy.

I feel strangely envious that they get to be happy. MY SOFA DAMMIT now I have to move to a new one and fend off anyone who wants to claim it as their own. It's not that I particularly want to be in their situation (what anyone would like about Arthur is pretty much beyond me though Lancelot has some nice features traits) but they seem happy, and they're together, and in spite of everything the seem to love each other. (If I was Lancelot I would not continue to love Arthur, but you know, he's not me).

The part where I intellectually know to be awake in the morning meant they had to go at it all night for some reason doesn't bother me so much as the fact they got to be intimate with someone they love and I spent the night on a rollout bed in Agravaine's room listening to him snore.

I want my life back, and I want permission to talk to my wife. Or I am slowly going to go craziery. Being patient was never one of my virtuous strong points. The fact it has been three years since I last had a romantic engagement with someone else makes me want one would not be possible but for the grace of God.

I can only wait and pray, and hope time will improve the scenario and my family will accept me once again.

OR cave in and buy a prostitute. No. I'm not serious. I don't need people lining up to do me it was a cheap joke. I'm patient.

I, Gawain of Camelot, am here.

I am here to reassure you that you know me, after all. Most of you.
I am here to reassure you I am not going anywhere.
I am here to reassure you that Mr. Darcy has not destroyed my brain I am much the same as the man you used to know.
I am here to promise I love as of old.

I am not here to destroy your lives. I am here to rebuild them with you.

I am here, for good.

It's good to be home.