I miss the rush now.

I miss the rush now. The blurred street lights, wild neons and a violent wind that forces me to close my eyes while I desperately try to keep them open. I want to see it all, everything that passes by, everything that is bright and jagged around me. I miss the sensation that I get somewhere inside when I'm lifted, and the absence of gravity is liberating. That blissful empty moment when I truly am no different than a speck of dust making its way into oblivion, no mass, no thoughts...

Then we hit the sea, and I'm reminded of reality as a cold, salty wave manages to hit me squarely in the face. I laugh, and try to dry my eyes so as to be able to see the passing boats and lights. The water is dark, ominous. White foams form, then disappear as we speed past. I can only hear the splashes now, and the wind. It's wonderful. I think it's the closest to freedom I can get. I can picture myself reaching out for it in my mind.

Close, but no cookie.

I miss the rush now.

One More Time

I want it again. I do. And I think I'm ready this time, no more leaps of faith, no more blindfolds. I need to trust myself and more importantly, allow myself to jump. I need to be able to let go, in spite of the fact that every fiber of my being refuses to do so ever since that grizzly november 3 years ago. I know now that I can get hurt, and that it's important that I do get hurt, because I am at a place right now that I wouldn't have been at otherwise. I love this moment, this moment when I'm sitting in my bed with my funky yellow t-shirt, Daft Punk thumping out of my laptop's speakers, a slight breeze gently lifting the leaves of the trees I can see the reflections of on my open window, this moment when everything's still.

A friend of mine said to me yesterday

"When it rains, it pours."

I have been waiting for it to rain. I am ready. And even though I have not seen a single drop, I feel a brilliant storm brewing somewhere, wild and sudden, perhaps a summer rain. The type that catches you off guard and makes you smile. Soaking wet, I want to run in the streets again. One more time.