I've missed things when I was away. Things you take for granted. Things I used to take for granted.
I had plenty of time. All the time in the world. Seconds were hours that felt like days. There was nothing else to do but miss things and shift my mind into imagination. So there I was, thinking and breathing and forgetting myself time and time again. Stepping outside of myself and venturing.
I pictured myself in a field when I closed my eyes. I could see myself walking among wheats, touching them with my fingertips. The sun was shining. It was blinding. A solar flare was ever-present in my sight. I didn't mind. I liked it. It gave me a sensation of warmth. Something I've missed so much. One of many things. Tip of the iceberg.
Now that I'm back I don't feel it the same way. I always knew deep inside me that it would be different. I thought it would be better. That's the truth. When I felt it again, really felt it, I was left wanting. Wanting more from it, demanding it to match my expectations.
It's not its fault. I guess my expectations were skewed by years of solitude. My imagination added certain features, enhanced the picture. It helped at the time. It allowed me to fight off desperation and hopelesness. For that I'll forever be greatful.
But as I lay down now, back here, I close my eyes yet again and drift...
Seconds become hours that feel like days.
There's the familiar warmth. Not the real one. The one that's exclusive to me.
It's not leaving me anytime soon.