Give Me My Sun

I realise that it's been ages since I wrote a blog. I'm extremely sorry. I haven't written in my journal, either, if that makes you feel any better.

I haven't much to say. It's the summer time, I spend my days reading author's blogs and facebook stalking. Occasionally getting up to do some yoga and strettttccchhh, then I sit back down for another marathon run. I listen to my music, I procrastinate, I've even cleaned my room and organised my closet. I feel good about my room.

I'm writing. It's not steady, but when have I ever worked that way? It's always touch and go with me, and right now it's a touch. I haven't written in about a week, but last week I wrote at least four chapters in about three days. Now, I'm sure they're all looney and poorly written, but I have it down, which is what counts. It hasn't clicked yet, but I got rid of my previous snag, and I feel good. I'm just waiting until I hit that runner's high, the adrenaline rush where you can barely feel your legs beneath you. When I hit it, I'll be even more reclusive than I am now, writing fiendishly at all hours of the day and night, eating sleeping dreaming Okeanos.

But, for now, I am enjoying torrential downpours and mozzarella sticks and England nostalgia. I miss people, though. I miss having the people that I want to wrap my arms around right next to me. The ones that would let me, anyway. I miss that excitement of walking into a room and knowing that I'm looking way too good. I miss giggling about the cute boys and texting into the wee hours of the morning. I miss parties and movies and living. I miss Redvines and telephone lines and dreaming about my book being on my bookshelf. I miss the presence of my muscles, the sore and achey but oh-so-good feeling when I've stretched and worked them and pushed them.

I miss being excited. I miss feeling things. I miss being able to braid my hair and put on mascara and climb mountains and breathe dry air. I miss that humming in my heart. That's what I miss the most. The pit-of-your-stomach, base-of-your-heart humming. When you're standing just a bit too close, staring just a bit too long, your nerves are jarringly raw. I miss that. Being acted on by an equal but opposite force. When you just want to stand and bask and soak and be pulled forever.

I think it's those inquisitive glances that I adore. The ones that can't be controlled, that makes your body revolve around another, two stars, hitting just the right angle, where you can see and pretend that you don't. In orbit. I miss being in orbit. Being grounded to someone else, not just a drifter. Orbiting slowly, calculatingly, circling and dancing and always aware. That lick of a smile at the corner of my mouth when I catch their own look. When I know that they're in orbit, too.

It's been raining for years. Awful space rain that has screwed up my solar system. Give me my sun back. Put that big, shiny star in the middle and let me circle it, let me swing away and swing close again. Let us tango and waltz and salsa and twirl. Let me get close enough to burn, let my heart hum again.

Give me my sun.