Miss me?

It's halfway through April. I hate that it's been this long. I wrote one piece during my sabbatical, which wasn't as much of a sabbatical as it was an exercise in self control. It's nice to be back. You would think at my age that I would have finally gotten the need behind writing regardless of audience. But for some reason there is a difference to me. I don't even need people to comment. I just need to know they could be reading. That my words might be reaching someone. Some sort of accountability. Something more than what (one of) my favorite professor(s) called "mental masturbation". It's more than just a moment inside my own head. It's like dancing in the dark in the light of the street lamp, knowing someone might see. It's like having that one very private moment and finding out years later that someone had in fact been witness to it. I've tried as hard as I could to keep an offline journal and for whatever reason.. it. has. never. happened. I need this place to write. I need an audience regardless of how absent it may seem. I need to know that somewhere, somehow, what I write may effect others. I guess it's my need to effect change and my need to be heard all rolled into one. If it's the trade off, then it's worth it. I missed being here. I missed hearing my own voice and I missed the sound of its echo. I missed this connection. I missed you. Did you miss me too?