Missing

I miss the person I was. I miss the feel of my body working, obeying, strong, invincible.

I miss the seamless control over my physicality, the feeling of total symbiosis between my body and my mind, the feeling of being alive inside and out, breathing the heady power of being whole in yourself.

I miss the taste of sweat on my skin, the air in my lungs, the burn in my legs, the tired bliss in my eyes as I look in the mirror, drunk from movement, high on emotional creative energy, fuzzy soft dazed elevated from pushing over every possible limit.

I miss the heat on my cheeks, the blood rushing in my ears, the quiver in my muscles, the pain of pushing but not quite reaching yet, the frustration of aiming higher, the determination of never giving up, the exquisite strength of persistence. Once more, tighter, delicate, precise, with feeling, direction, higher, more, again, now think, alert, clever, bigger, stronger, more, again, now.

I fucking want that back. I want it all back.

It's not about goals, it's not about prizes, not about achieving, not about projects, missed time or opportunities. Who the fuck cares?

It's about feeling alive.

And I fucking want it back.