You’re really not supposed to look at the clock in these kinds of events. DM covers the clock in the study room, they never show a clock in the dance floor, and it used to be that cell phones were verboten/forbidden in the dancers favor such that they couldn’t look at the clock.
And yet you always somehow get the time. And it inevitably hurts.
After the rave hour morale and strength amazingly precipitously drop. The study room is really the only solace for some sort of distraction to get thru the next x number of hours.
Delirium doesn’t necessarily hit a high. But it does something.
And yet, still, that mantra of FTK runs through our veins. The miracle families constantly remind us of our duty and how grateful they are for it.
And that’s what keeps us going. We don’t know exactly how we/I’ll manage to survive the remaining stretch. But we know we have to. We know somehow we have to. And we will.
For the kids.