A Cry Guide: For Your Pleasure

So you need a cry party?

A true crier needs no audience. Ladies, remember, cry for yourself and nobody else. If you don’t cry for yourself, who will?

Find the perfect time when you can be alone. Purposely leave your tissues far away to add the lovely element of dragging your limp, heaving body to them.

Pretty tissues are advised

Pretty tissues are advised

As you feel the tears start, encourage them to keep coming. The more the merrier. When the moment feels right, begin keening sounds. With every breath hike the volume until reaching desired level. The aim is to achieve a point where you’re screaming out your pain and the tears are nothing but a sidekick.

All done? If you left tears behind, tidy them up with a tissue. Discretion is advised. No one can take away the special moments if they don’t know about them.

Did that cry make you feel better? I know I feel better.

Until we cry again,

Ella

Song Quote:

It’s all right to cry, even my dad does sometimes. So don’t wipe your eyes, tears remind you you’re alive. –Even My Dad Does Sometimes, Ed Sheeran

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Change My World

There’s a lot that I don’t know. I can’t even write a complete list for you because I wouldn’t know what to put on it. But throughout my entire life there have been a few things that I’ve always known, and one of them is writing. I will always have writing.

In the past half a year I’ve written more than I’ve ever written before (even though this blog doesn’t necessarily showcase it. Sorry about that), and it’s been so good for me. I have another world, separate from the real one, which lives inside of me. Worlds are created all the time, practically every time I read a book, watch a movie or binge watch a TV show. The difference is that this world is something I invented, the people living in it are characters I dreamt up, and the meaning of it is the culmination of many, many, inner conversations and turmoil.

The cool thing about my world is that I have writing. You see, I’m in the process of turning this inner world into a world accessible to other people by writing it. I’ve done this for nearly two years with my thoughts and feelings on this blog (this is where we all freak out and scream over the fact that I’ve been writing on here for two years. I mean, sheesh, I’ve had my driver’s license for a year! Remember that saga? I remember).

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I googled “freak out and scream” and of all the amusing photos, this one won

This is different though. This isn’t me sharing the thoughts I have on my life and my body and my situation. This is me sharing a story. A story I’m building, crafting, imagining, and loving. I really love it.

It’s cool to think that maybe someday, you will all read my book. Like, in an actual physical copy, with my name embossed on the front and the blurb about the author including this very blog. You’re all going to be famous!

I’ve had ideas for novels before but they were never real. This one is real. This one is serious. This one is actually happening.

On the list of things that I don’t know goes my plans for next year. I have __ months of high school left (I can’t bring myself to count). I don’t know what I’ll be doing, because stinking fibro cancels out all of my options. But I’ll always have writing. Who knows, maybe this is fate stepping in and making sure I won’t be able to move on to the next natural step so that I can sit down and write this book.

Will it change the world? Probably not.

Will it change mine? Probably.

Yours,

Ella

Song Quote:

I put my faith in me. –Long Shot, Newton Faulkner

A Valentine’s Day Story

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Her laugh broke the silence. “Was that an echo?” she thought to herself as her embarrassing bark came to a sharp end. “Is my home really so empty?”

Truthfully, it was. Not only did it lack the pink, red and naked baby decorations that adorned every surface today, it was also devoid of humans beside her. The silence was just a tangible portrayal of her loneliness, bone deep and soul solid.

She had used to think the sky was blue; she now knew it was only painted blue. Remembering she had believed differently reminded her of her past, though. It was the past that had made her laugh.

This loneliness was all her doing. After all, it was she who had moved away. It was she who had made them all say good-bye. And it was she who had, at the last minute, requested a rain check on her date tonight. Tonight, the 14th.

The only time loyalty came to play in her life was when it came to her MO: running away.

“But,” she thought as she unwrapped a chocolate from the gold box, “I still like this more than what was before. I’m happier now.”

Because now, she didn’t have to deal with the pain of others or how they felt about her. Now, she was free. Plopping down onto her wide couch all by her lonesome, she popped another chocolate into her mouth and reached for the remote. Because now, now one knew her secret.

It had been foolish of her to accept a date request for tonight. She had her own tradition to uphold. Every year, on the 14th of the 2nd, she reveled in her successful cover-up. Today being the 10 year anniversary, she could finally be sure the truth would never, ever see light. Let’s just say, there was a body that would stay buried.

This loneliness really was all her doing.

Flicking through the channels, she laughed loudly to herself once more.

 

FIN

 

I had way too much fun writing this. 

Love,

Ella

 

Song Quote:

So what became of loving man and what became of you? -Handshake, Two Door Cinema Club

I’m Going Home

 

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Not my window, but a dreamy window indeed

 

I can totally do this.

The past few days have been filled with pain and the past few nights have been filled with consciousness. I am tired and tired of studying. I am sick and suffering, but I can do this.

Two tests left. My window is open to let the cold, crisp air in and onto my face, and every now and then I remember to breathe. I have a playlist of Coldplay, Maroon 5 and Beyoncé to keep me from getting too bored of my material, and a yellow highlighter that matches my dried mango (god’s gift to man).

A classic study set-up.

Not only am I motivated and uplifted by the light I can glimpse at the end of the tunnel, but I now have something to look forward to: I’m going home. I moved away from my hometown when I was 7, and in many ways where I live now is a larger part of my identity. It’s where my family is, where most of my friends are, my school, and my past ten years of life. This culture now feels as much an inseparable part of my identity as the culture of my early childhood.

But still, the thought of going back for a visit makes the words “I’m going home!” shout in my mind, bang around and jump up and down (primarily as I try to study). For once I have something to look forward to, and by golly, is it uplifting.

I just feel like I can do this, I can make it through these tests and then go home. The first time I went back to visit was many years after we moved away, and at the sight of my neighborhood I began to cry in the back of the cab. Those tears were because I missed it all and I wished we’d never moved. The tears I’m sure will come this time will not be the same. I’m no longer a 7-year-old girl. In a few months time I will turn 18 and I will need to accept that the fibromyalgia will become a part of my adult life too.

This time I will cry because I really need a break from the reality of my life that is so often sad and frustrating.

This time I will cry tears of joy, because despite it all I love the person I have become and I know I would not be the same if we had never moved away.

This time I will cry, and then leave the tears aside and focus on being where I am. The Dalai Lama said that there are only two days that do not exist: yesterday and tomorrow. In my life, my yesterdays always carry over to my todays (in the form of a headache) and I can’t help but worry about all of my tomorrows.

This time I will cry.

Yours,

Ella

 

Song Quote:

Millions of miles from home in the swirling, swimming on, when I’m rolling with the thunder, but bleed from thorns, leave a light, leave a light on. –Midnight, Coldplay

 

Stay tuned for part 2! I plan to write all about my trip.

Part 1: I’m Going Home

Part 2: I’m Home!

Silent Night, Peaceful Drive

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Driving at night is so peaceful. I spent almost an hour in the car last night, and even though I had music on, it felt silent. The world was rushing by but my brain wasn’t whirring at full speed.

In the car, I have power. Control. I may not be able to decide how my body behaves or how I wake up feeling, but I do get to decide where I drive and how fast I go.

In the car, my headlights form spotlights. For once, what the light illuminates is not the good, the bad or the ugly. It is the road. Always showing you where you are headed and gives you a way to survive.

Okay, reading that back, that last bit came out really pretty. Excuse me as I pat myself on the back.

In the car, my physical limitations evaporate. I can get where I want to get to, and nothing is a struggle. I am patient, and thus not even traffic can damper my mood.

In the car, I am safe from the rain. I stay cozy and dry, and watch for once as the bad thing is outside and not within me, not a part of me. I am but a bystander. The pain? Not mine. It is the clouds that are crying.

If only I could stay in my car and face the world from within, protected.

Yours,

Ella

Song Quote:

Good morning freedom, goodnight lullabies. –Drive Darling, Boy

An Ode to the Changing of the Clocks

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It’s cold now. Cold means big sweaters and heavy blankets, which mean safety. I bought new slippers, in honor of the changing of the clocks. They mean, I know these look like they belong to an 80-year-old woman, but they’re comfy as heck. Cold means tea, and tea means a burnt tongue, which doesn’t have any enriching value besides reminding me of winters past.

It’s earlier now. Early means I wake before I need to, and fall asleep before I’m supposed to. At least it used to be that way. It isn’t anymore, because sleep and I are on a break. But it does mean that as I lay in bed staring ahead, I see the raindrops (on roses and whiskers on kittens) caught on my window, and the smell of it seeps through the walls. Do the raindrops look like tear drops as they cling to my face?

It’s darker now. Darkness means comfort and calm, and more hours of it should mean less time spent in a frenzy. Because frenzy leads to anxiety and anxiety leads to pain, so really I’m sitting here praying to the darkness: take away my pain.

I latch on to the hope that comes with change. It was fall. Now it’s winter. This was change. May the change bring with it all the good I wish for during my waking hours of staring at raindrops.

Yours truly,

Ella

It’s cozier now, and cozier leads to winter playlists. I put together a playlist for this season (yay!), called ‘Changing Clocks’, that you can find on Spotify (click the link or type ‘Changing Clocks’ into the search bar, it’s the top result, and then you can follow it to see when I add new songs).

Song Quote:

If the rain keeps falling and you can’t see the tears in my eyes, they say the night is daunting but we all need somewhere to hide. –It Could Be Better, Lewis Watson

P.s. Comment below if you caught the Friends reference in here!

I’m Going to Go with Passion

I’m having trouble concentrating on life because all I want to to do is write the story I have in my head right now. I can’t even focus on writing a post without getting distracted and wanting to write VIQ (I don’t want to share the whole title just yet, so just initials for now).

This isn’t what I usually write on here, but I’ve actually come to the conclusion that maybe this too will interest you. Because when you have a lot of pain, like I’ve had the past few weeks, you don’t get to do what you want to. You aren’t free. All I wanted to do was write but even typing hurt my hands too much. Now that I’ve regained functionality I have this drive inside me to let my creativity run abound and get this story from my head to the pages. It’s not a fire, even though some writers describe it that way, but the words are definitely burning to get out. I think I’d call it… Obsession? Urge? Passion. I’m going to go with passion. I have to admit, I’m really excited about VIQ. It’s different than what I usually write and all of the previous novel ideas I’ve had. It’s kind of a fun story that observes the way the whole world is so small these days, and how we can all be connected to the exact same thing despite the distance between us. It’s also a huge mash-up of all of my favorite daydreams to escape to. For once it feels nice not to write about the things that are sad and hard for me. Not that that is the only thing I write on here- there are plenty of things that have to do with normal life and happier topics. But still, in this novel, no one is sick and I like that.

So here’s to VIQ and huge breakthroughs,

Ella

Song Quote:

If you could read my mind, love, what a tale my thoughts could tell. -If You Could Read My Mind, Gordon Lightfoot Do you feel this passion too?