Hello E2! How have you been! Have you slimmed down since I last saw you? You do seem more nimble!

I've been gone, I know. Or rather, I didn't. It's one of those things about drifting away. You don't choose to leave so much as you forget to come back. And then it's been two years since I've been caring enough to exchange a word of substance. Maybe longer, if you're being particularly acerbic today. Are those voices still here?

And so here I am after a run, riding my normal post-workout high. Eager, wide-eyed, uncharacteristically gregarious, and overflowing with words that outpace the structure and rhythm they should come packaged in. I can't tell you how many times I used to compose epic-in-my-head treatises on my regular runs that I was sure I would write down. But then I'd get back to campus or work or home, and there'd be somebody to hug or to chat or to Facebook, and eventually the thrill would wane and I would wax inhibited once more.

I grew tired—I grow tired—and the exuberance drains to a background hum. Today, I wanted so badly to expound on nothing, but the other runners had places to be. And there's nobody at home to overflow onto, and I don't want to be on Facebook. It's just E2, and I wasn't even thinking about a treatise this time. Just about myself. Can you really come back after two years and expect somebody to listen to that sort of meta self indulgence?

Probably not. Sometimes it's nice just to talk without being heard, though.