I miss writing, the ease with which my thoughts translate to a sentence, balancing on the tip of my tongue to be molded and sculpted til it sounds just right read aloud. It's a simple act which I've always gained enjoyment from but somewhere in the year and a half I've not written a post, my words were buried instead in spoken conversations, scraps of paper and captions. But even now, just forming these sentences, feels so right and re-reading old posts remind me of why I do so. 

So where have I been? Nowhere particularly, but life has gone on. I've changed yet I haven't. I've grown yet I feel the same. And I am not quite sure whether I'm ready for the next big step but it approaches nevertheless and I must face it. But that's a worry for another day. Right now, I'm content, I'm happy and post two weeks I'll be happier yet. 

But honestly, "procrastination at its best", if I wasn't running away from the 33 pages of notes and more to come, I probably wouldn't have written this. Wait fourteen days, then I think its due time I showed this dusty spot some tlc.