A Love Letter. -23

22 passed in the blink of an eye. It was a year of adventure and achievement, of high hopes and  disappointments, of blue breezes and silver storms. But really, it was a year that simply stopped being about me. 

With a global pandemic looming right outside my front door, most things that used to matter seemed to fade from view. For the first time since I moved out years ago, I went home to live with my parents and sisters for a few months. Anticipating lockdowns, there was nowhere I’d have rather been. Yet without the beloved staples of my life, I was left with so much time to sit alone and think. There were definitely moments when I’d rather not have thought at all, but as it were, I had plenty of time to consider what this past year has meant to me. 

Though it feels almost impossible to remember life before Corona, there are so many memories from this year that I don’t want to lose in the chaos. 

This year, I was all I needed, but I wasn’t all I had. 

I had my friends. I was more present than ever before, wholly devoted to being as supportive and loving as I could possibly be. I smiled as their hearts filled with joy and I held them when they broke. I listened to their secrets and their screams. I laced up their wedding dresses. I thanked all my lucky stars for the beautiful people in my life, and I thanked those beautiful people for cherishing me for who I am. We’ve been striding forwards in this insane world we live in, remembering who we used to be and thinking about who we are now. Who we want to be. 

This is my love letter to them. This is my love letter to Thanksgiving traditions and to overdue phone calls, to Ikea trips and to study sessions. My love letter to the paint parties, the dinner parties, the Taylor Swift listening parties, the power-outages in the middle of the parties and the pity parties. My love letter to the weddings, the wine festivals, the food festivals and the times we just spent all of our time together. This year would have been far less interesting without the pep talks before and the debriefs after. 

I had my family. I’ve spent weeks trying to find the right words with which to describe how much my family means to me, and I haven’t been able to. They’ve saved me, by always being there, always loving me, comforting me, guiding me. I guess words just can’t do them justice. Every word is my love letter to them. 

I had my home. There was a time when I thought I would have to move out of this apartment to get away from the ghosts that haunted it, but I changed my mind. I realized that all I needed to do was to fill it up with new light and new laughter. Make it mine again. On June 13th, on October 2nd, on December 26th. On countless occasions, I made this place my home. 

I had freedom.  The freedom to make mistakes, and regret them. The freedom to go where I wanted to when I wanted to (pre-Corona). The freedom to learn, to try and to take risks. 

I took a risk. At 22, I tried again. It took a lot of courage to be vulnerable again. He never ended up having my heart, but he held my hand. As a second man walked out of my door and out of my life, I realized how truly comfortable I am on my own. I’m not running from myself, or running towards someone else. I’m truly content to just focus on my life, and when something real appears – I’ll know it. I won’t let it pass me by. Though I’m still terrified of experiencing another earth-shattering break up like I did last year, I’m doing everything in my power to ensure that the fear does not interfere with my new beginnings.

With everything going on around the world, the last few months of my life have felt vastly insignificant. My thoughts have been focused on topics so much bigger than my life, for better or for worse. How can I feel sorry for myself for missing my last semester of university when people out there are dying? How can I mourn being away from my friends when I am so incredibly lucky to be isolated with my family? While so many are struggling to find stable ground in the unknown, how can I pity myself and overlook all of my good fortune? 

Though I spent such a long time picturing the triumphant last few months of my degree, it has taken me a surprisingly brief amount of time to accept that this story will end from afar. So long as I stay safe, and keep others safe, that’s all that matters. 

In February, after my last exam of the first semester, I decided to sit on the faculty steps in the middle of my campus. It was evening, and very few people were milling about. There was a full moon. Aware that I officially had only one semester left in my entire university experience, I had the sense that I should commit the feeling into my mind. The feeling of being a student, the feeling of belonging on that campus, of knowing my purpose and my goals so clearly. I had no idea that I wouldn’t be returning to that campus as a student, but now more than ever, I’m grateful for my natural inclination to be sentimental and focus on appreciating what I have while I have it. 

And so another huge chapter of my life is coming to a close. The end isn’t looking quite how I imagined it would. Despite that, and maybe partly because of it, I know that I’ll remember this chapter forever. What I’ll remember most, is how much stronger I am at the end than I was at the beginning. I’ll remember the nerve I needed to gather over these three years to make it through. I’m older, and I’m wiser. Everything I have learned in this degree will serve me for life, whether it be knowledge I gained from a book or from the unique experiences along the way (“I’m 9th!”). The opportunities I was afforded were truly once-in-a-lifetime. I’m grateful. For that, and for absolutely everything else.  

Another three years have gone by, another era has ended, and it’s time for a new adventure. As much as I hate goodbyes, I really love new beginnings. 

I guess this is my love letter to them. 

23 – I’m ready for you. 

~

Ella

“It was the end of a decade but the start of an age, I was screaming long live all the magic we made.” – Taylor Swift

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Kiss me congratulations.

Kiss me congratulations

Because it’s always one foot in front of the other

And I’ve

Lost track

Of the days.

It’s the beauty of unbearable pain.

 

Kiss me congratulations

Because I got a new job

And I have a new apartment

And

      I.      Am.

Trying.

 

Kiss me congratulations

Because I can see and I can tell you

That the sky is as blue as the breeze

And the birds fly as high as the melodies.

I can see and I can tell you

That sometimes sight and speech

Can take a slight toll

On me.

It isn’t that everything is falling apart around me

It’s that I’m falling apart inside.

 

Kiss me congratulations

Because being strong has left me weak.

I promised that in my old age I would fill

The room around me

With all that is said and done.

Memories of a life lived and the people I lived it with.

Feelings I felt once before, not again,

And thoughts I only had back then.

 

Kiss me congratulations

Because maybe I don’t need to

Be in my old age to need to

Fill the room around me.

Maybe right now, more than anything,

I need a room full of phantom bodies dancing in the woods

To make me want to dance again.

 

So kiss me congratulations

And do it like you mean it.

 

~

Ella

 

“And we won’t place any stock in old days, let’s save up for something new.” -Rusty Clanton

 

Changed. – 20

19 brought it on.

At 19, I moved out. I built a new life for myself, by myself, in a new city. I said goodbye to a place I loved very much, and with the support of everyone back home I went in search of something new. I didn’t have a single friend here when I moved, and today I barely leave my apartment without seeing someone I know. I have fallen in love with this city – its rhythm, its quirks, its sights, its sounds and above all, its people. This is my home now, and I will never be alone here again.

That said, it wasn’t easy. This year has been riddled with challenges, some I anticipated and many I did not. There were nights I was so tired and so achy I couldn’t move to turn off the lights, and mornings I felt so sick I cried getting out of bed. There were complications at every turn and frustrating surprises, but there were also moments of pure triumph and pride when I succeeded where I feared I wouldn’t. Nothing was ever ideal, but I adapted, managed and rediscovered time and time again how strong I am. I was determined not to let anything get in my way, and I didn’t.

At 19, I worked harder than I’ve ever worked before and proved myself from scratch. I had no idea how stressful (and occasionally infuriating) my position at the Center would be or what a toll it would take. But when all’s said and done, I think I will always look back on it fondly for one reason: the people. If it weren’t for the Center, I would not have the community that I do. I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by incredible, unique, good people. I have friends for whom words do no justice, and have had experiences so random and so amazing I could never have dreamt them up. I’ve gained beautiful people in my life without losing any I had before, and have lived memories that will last a lifetime.  

At 19, I learned a different kind of happiness I never believed existed. I used to say, “Happiness is not a state of being, it’s just fleeting moments that pass you by and you need to know how to notice them.” Now I know that the only kind of happiness I knew before 19 was incredibly fragile. That’s not the smile I wear anymore. Now, when shit hits the fan it turns into sparkles, because the happiness I have found is the kind that doesn’t run away. It trembles, sometimes, but it’s a pure and true joy that miraculously refuses to leave.

At 19, I fell in love. How strange to think that for the first half of 19 I didn’t have Tom. So much has happened, to us and between us, in just six months. He is everything I ever dreamed of, and everything I didn’t realize I should dream of. It took me a long time to believe he was real, to feel like we were real. But he is, and we are. I melt at the thought of him, and I never feel as at peace as I do when he finally embraces me in his arms. I never smile as widely as I do when he gets excited or want to sing as much as I do when I’m with him. He makes me shine. Or rather, I let myself shine when I’m with him.

I have no doubt the memories I made this year really will last a lifetime – and a lot of those memories are with Tom. We’ve gone through some really tough, trying times together, but regardless of whether I was crying or laughing at the beginning of a conversation, I was always laughing at the end. We’re the absolute cutest. We’re so in love even we think it’s a bit much. We’re a real life couple, but we’re a match made in heaven.

At 19, everything came up roses. I had fun. I worked, I worked out, I sang. I saw sunlight everywhere I looked. I cooked, I cleaned, I crashed, I took the stairs without realizing. I talked to strangers. I wrote, I read, I filmed, I edited, I felt like I could fly. I laughed so hard my collar bone hurt and I jumped every time I got a text. I cried. I listened. I took walks and got lost on purpose.

I watched the sunsets from my balcony and fell asleep on my roommates. I supported my friends, new and old, and I supported my partner, as each and every one of them went after the things they want and deserve in life. I spent hours and hours on the phone, being long distance not only with Tom but also my family and my friends from home. I took it all in and then I brought all of my worlds together.

At 19, I existed under a new sky, not because I went somewhere else but because I became someone else. I became who I’ve always wanted to be.  

I’m not 19 anymore. But whenever I walk the streets of this city, I will always be 19 again. These roads will be my memory lanes. Everywhere I walk I’ll feel the rush of independance and exhilaration all over again. Stairs will remind me of stories, buildings will remind me of people and alleys will remind me of feelings. Every step will remind me how it felt to be young and in love.

It’s on these streets that I felt more alive than ever before. It’s on these streets that I lived a life I wasn’t sure I would ever get to have.

It’s on these streets that everything changed.

I’m about to say my third big goodbye in three years. Everything is going to change all over again. Another new city, another new adventure, another chance to find myself fearless in the face of all of my fears. It’s the end of an era that has taught me more than I could probably realize right now.

Turning 20 is a big deal. It’s a big number. I always hoped I would get a chance to be a healthy teenager, but that’s not how things have worked out. After graduation I began the journey of figuring out how to live my adult life while sick, and I’ve done that. I’ve succeeded. I have been fearless. And I know, I’ll be fine. I just wish it didn’t have to be such a struggle to be fine. I’m so tired of the endless circle of pain and I wish I could make it end. I never talk about it anymore because I try not to think about it. I’ve learned to soften, lean forwards and allow my feelings to be engulfed by the presence of another person, whoever that person may be. I find solace and refuge in words that having nothing to do with pain. I submerge myself in interactions, in conversation, in laughter, so that what weighs on my heart isn’t heavy enough to hurt it.

I wish I could say there was no sadness laced into this birthday, but there is. As much as I love my life, I was forced to give up a lot and I think that will always hurt. It comes and goes in waves, the sting of all that my health denied me. But I can say there are no regrets laced into this birthday, because I have proven to myself and everyone around me that healthy or not, I’m going to achieve every goal I set for myself and love every step of the way. I may be sick and sick of it, but I am living the life.

At 20 I can say with my whole heart that I am happy. I am confident. I am in love. And I am ready – to continue having the time of my life.

~~~

Ella

“That’s the delicate way you’ve shown me, you’re the strongest person I know.” -The Streets

Bloom.

All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.

-Ernest Hemingway

I never thought I would have the life I have now. I thought it was impossible, that I would be denied and deprived of it until the day I was no longer sick. I thought Bloom had been stolen from me. I thought like that up until so recently… and then everything changed.

Except that’s just it. Nothing changed. I changed. Sick and tired of waiting to be better to do what I wanted to do and live the way I wanted to live, I’d finally had enough. I remember telling my friends about this crazy idea I had. I told them where I wanted to move, that I had no idea what I would do, where I would live, or how I would get by, but that I was going to figure it out.

And I did. I turned it from something I thought would never happen, from a crazy idea, to a plan, then to a reality, to the life I have now that I can’t begin to tell you how much I love. I find myself thinking, always during the most humdrum moments, “This is Bloom”. My life was so lacking, and now I have everything I was missing. Minus health, of course.

It’s winter now and my pain is ever-present. The cold has turned my body into fragile marble. I feel like I’m drowning beneath the pain, suffocating because breathing takes too much out of me, freezing because my head can’t think over the sound of the struggle. And still —

I’ve never been as happy as I’ve been these last three months since moving. I’ve never felt this happy for this long. I’ve never been as happy to be buying fresh produce, walking to a train stop or doing my laundry. I’ve never been as happy to be in pain, because unlike in the past, I know the pain isn’t winning.

I’m winning. This is Bloom.

I’ll never forget I thought this life was something I would never have. I have it now, and not a day goes by that I’m not grateful for it. I’m grateful for it and I’m grateful for myself, for trusting my instincts and not letting my lack of hope or my lack of health stop me from daring to live.

To live in spite of it all.

Someone recently asked me how I manage to deal with all the pain, and my answer was simple: “I just really love life.”

That is the truest sentence I know.

~~~

Ella

Song Quote:

I live for this feeling, this everglow. -Everglow, Coldplay

Brave.

 

It’s hard for me to write why I’m scared and what’s making me nervous. Clearly it’s all of it, but there’s something keeping me from using the words. In three days I’m moving out to a place I’ve never lived before to live with people I don’t know, and start a new job at a center where I know no one and will have to prove myself from scratch. It’s a lot, and my pain is through the roof. I’m barely sleeping and for the first time in awhile it feels like fibromyalgia is a dragon breathing fire once again.

I’ve been making promises to myself recently. Maybe I’ll use those words.

I promise to remember that it’s okay if:

• I cry a lot.
• I don’t conquer everything at once.
• I feel scared.
• I call home a lot.
• I ask for help with silly things.
• I cut myself some slack and not try as hard as I always do.
• I feel lost and small. No need to feel even worse for feeling those things.
• I don’t have fun right away. Things take time.

I promise to take good care of myself. To do so I need to make sure to:

• Stretch before bed every night. Seriously.
• Follow the annoying but wise “no-screens-after-nine-p.m.” rule.
• Eat well, which means cook.
• Keep up my exercise. Find a class or something… Yes! Become that young adult in a new place who joins groups to meet people.
• Call my people.
• Write a lot. It keeps me sane, it keeps me calm, and it’s beautiful to look back on. 
• Listen to music all the time. Have dance parties. Rock out to my jams when I’m feeling down. It always works, like true magic.
• Be nostalgic the appropriate amount. It’s par for the course. Draw strength from the experiences and memories.  

I promise not to forget that:

• I deserve my best shot at life.
• This whole adventure is a good thing. It’s what I wanted. Remember why you are where you are.
• I am creative, capable, and a total badass, so I can turn anything that’s thrown my way into a piece of cake (that’s non-processed, dairy-free and chocolate-free. Maybe I need another metaphor). 
• It might not be right away, but I will have fun! I will have so much fun. I can’t lose sight of that. I purposely created this year to have what I’ve been missing this past year – new people, independence and some fun.
• There are so many people rooting for me. They have faith in me and they know I’ll do well and succeed and live a good life. If they know it, I should know it too.

Also, Ella? Once everything settles down your pain will alleviate. You know that, so don’t freak out. Survive it like you survive everything else. Don’t lose sight of everything. Ready set go.

Time to be brave.

~~~

Ella
Song Quote:

I did my best to assure her but assurance isn’t easy to give. -Words, Passenger

 

As promised, a new collage! This will go on the wall of my new bedroom.

All of the pictures are from magazines, and I like to cut flowers out of different ads and glue them on for a pop of color.

“She believed she could, so she did”

Believing in Bloom

Sometimes I just feel it’s only me.

According to my brain and heart, there is Truth, Magic and Bloom.

Truth is personal. It belongs to each of us and to none of us. Whatever my Truth is, it’s legitimate, and whatever yours is, it is too. I try to see and understand each person’s Truth in the way that they do. You can’t deny the validity of somebody else’s world.

Magic is something I can’t seem to pin down… Magic is fleeting moments of pure joy, along with moments of awe and appreciation for everything that this incredible world holds. Magic is seeing the bigger picture and knowing it’s the little things. Magic is… hope. It is not something I control, but it’s something I’m learning to preserve in order to survive. To survive in the hopes I will reach:

Bloom.

Bloom is something I will only truly be able to achieve once I am better. Once I am healthy. Once I am free: released from this prison that coils bars around my bones and marches jail keepers around my core. You know my pain and you know my frustration – I feel no closer to health than I have any of the multiple times I’ve cried to you in writing about how hopeless I am.

Therefore, Bloom feels like an abstract concept that I run the risk of never really understanding. I’m not sure I believe in Bloom. Will it all just pass me by? It’s scary to think about it, because what if I find nothing but disappointment? What if I never get to Bloom?

~~~

Still I wonder. So I take a step back and evaluate my life. What I’ve done thus far with the circumstances I have been given makes me proud. I can declare, with my whole heart, that I am doing well. As always, “still so many ups and downs”, but I don’t take for granted all that I have been managing. When I compare now to this time last year… I know so much more than I did then. I just don’t know enough about Bloom. I’d like to believe it will happen naturally. Must sustain myself until then.

~~~

According to my brain and heart:

Bloom is what my Truth will be once Magic decides to come and stay.

~~~

Ella.

Song Quote:

I wish I could live a little more, look up to the sky not just the floor, I feel like my life is passing by and all I can do is watch and cry… I miss it when life was a party to be thrown, but that was a million years ago. -Million Years Ago, Adele

(I think everyone must relate to this song so differently… the first time I heard it I cried because I felt it perfectly summed up how I feel about being sick. Now when I cry I think to myself “My life is passing by and all I can is watch and cry”.)

~~~

P.s. This post is loaded with references to earlier pieces I’ve written and posted on this blog since I created it nearly three years ago. Did you catch them?

Goody Goody

Change is change and takes adjustment, but I think I’m getting the hang of it. Things are picking up, settling in, taking off. It just feels like everything has fallen into place. True to myself I know how to recognize when things are good, and right now, things are good. And I love the weather.

The pain is still here but I’m taking care of myself. The sadness is still here, but there’s satisfaction to combat it. The loneliness is still here, but it has less of a sting to it.

I feel happy again. I feel like I have more good moments than bad moments. I’m crying less. I’m doing more. I’m watching a lot of Gilmore Girls. I’m busy again. I’m seeing my friends more. Or rather, enjoying the time I spend with my friends more than before. I feel like I have what to say, I have what to share, and I have what to be proud of again. I’m interesting and complex and funny and lively. Again.

I wish I could sleep. I mean, it would be helpful, you know? But you can’t have everything. I like that even when it takes me hours to fall asleep, I don’t talk myself into a frenzy. I write stories in my mind like I used to when I was little.

I feel curiosity for the first time in a long time. Being out of school has reminded me that I love learning and I love knowledge, and it’s a joy that is precious. I like surveying the months since graduation in my mind and realizing I’m now out of the dip. I like my clothing and I like how I look. I like that I’m good at staying in touch with people. I like that I persevere. I like that my diary hasn’t been as depressing these past couple weeks.

I like that I’m starting a course soon where I’ll meet new people and make new friends. Winter romance? A possibility.

On that note,

Ella

Song Quote:

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces. -Here Comes the Sun, The Beatles

At this point I refer you back to “An Ode to the Changing of the Clocks”, because it is once again how I feel and I’ve been pining to feel this way for months.

I Wonder

Please give me a pass for sounding incredibly pathetic right now, but I have a mental catalog of really great hugs I’ve received. I suddenly thought of someone I haven’t seen in about a year who gave me a great hug the last time we saw each other. It was a lingering hand hug – you know, the kind where the hug is officially over but neither removes their hands quickly. It occurred to me that I might have written in my journal about that hug, so I started digging through my drawers and retrieving old diaries.

As I was looking through them, page by page, I was struck by how much I have changed and how little my life has. The entries from last year could be the ones from yesterday, and the ones from two years ago could be the ones I’ll write tomorrow. I write with more finesse, maybe, or a slight twang of additional maturity, but I’m still dealing with the same difficulties. No matter how I change, advance, grow or learn, I can’t get away from this pervasive problem of my life.

I never imagined I would graduate high school and be sick. I’ve accepted a lot and have a lot of accepting left to do, but nothing can alter the fact that I’m greatly displeased with what is happening in my life. The things I’ve been writing here for over two years, about how little control I have over what happens to me and how useless hopes seem to be, are as relevant as they’ve ever been.

Now don’t get me a wrong, I’m a pro at making the best of whatever situation I find myself in. I believe in seeing and appreciating the good as I live, and remind myself every day how important it is not to see good only in retrospect. Not to look back on a time in my life and see some good aspect of it that I didn’t realize was there at the time. So as I suffer and smile through it I make lists in my mind of everything that is good, and this helps me. Helps me some, but not quite enough. Not enough to cover the sadness.

The sadness. It runs deep, maybe through my veins or my nerves, maybe in my heart or in my soul. I prefer to be alone with it, to retreat at times and allow myself to feel it as it courses, because I have a lot to cry for. I have a lot to be thankful for, but also a lot to cry for. The pain is a constant that seems to stem from my very core and that makes no sense, but the sadness I understand from the inside out. It’s there in the silence and it resonates in music, it thrums in my ears as I walk and buzzes in front of my eyes as I sleep. It’s a part of me, an integral component in my days. I live with it and it lives in me. But I no longer wonder why.

I try to remember that maybe the fact that I can’t imagine my future means it is destined to be better than anything I ever could imagine. I read my diaries and see the process of becoming who I am right now, a person I genuinely like. I can’t put my finger on just when it happened, but I have become an adult. I think practically and reasonably about decisions in my life, and I spend so much of my time now thinking of what I’d like to do with it. What do I want to study? What shall my profession be? Where do I want to live? (How will I afford that?) Which is the ladder I would like to climb?

It’s a quick step to the spiral of anxiety, realizing no matter how I plan I cannot conquer this disease and cannot live to my fullest potential. I harbored a secret hope that after finishing high school I would start to feel better and that I’d slowly but surely rise out of the pain. But alas, I’m just as sick as I was before, and I need to start figuring out how to manage adulthood in my current state. This point in my life is about proving that even if I am sick, I can still be okay.

I remember my childhood so vividly. I remember crying and thinking that good tears should not go to waste, trying to find a parent in the house and show them my state to receive some extra hugs. The real world doesn’t dole out any extra hugs when I suffer. I no longer wonder why.

I am still, in my essence, happy. But I am still, in my reality, sad. I mourn for the things I cannot have, cannot do and cannot be. I mourn.

There’s doubt. Isn’t there always? I doubt that I will ever get better. I doubt that I will live to see a time of peace in the world. I doubt that… that…

Well, this leads us to a sore spot. I know I’m lovable, okay? I know that. It’s not one of the things I doubt. It’s just something that has yet to be proven. I feel so silly for writing this, but in a way I feel it should be recorded just the same as all my other feelings.

No one has taken an interest. I’m the last of my friends… I’ve never been asked out, never been kissed, never been the object of someone’s crush. And I know my time will come, that I just haven’t met the right person yet, and that we each have our own timelines. But it makes me wonder. I wonder: why hasn’t anyone taken an interest?

When will it be my time? My time to be healthy, my time to be loved, my time to be free…

I wonder and will continue to wonder, but one thing can be said for sure, and that is that time doesn’t stop. In this moment I am older than I have ever been before and the youngest I will ever be again, and that in itself is a beautiful thing. Maybe life won’t disappoint me.

I know we’ll be fine when we learn to love the ride.

Love,

Ella

Song Quote:

If I fell in love a thousand times, would it all make sense? –Sense, Tom Odell

The Endless Ands

And what about those nights when I don’t want to get up the next morning? When giving up is the easier option, because really, who would love me like this anyway?

And as I write these words I wait for the fight to kick in, for the anger to strike me and tell me not to believe that. But I wait like I wait for health: hopelessly.

And what if I’m tired of waiting?

And as I contemplate the bed I am getting into, I wonder about the bed I will wake up to. Will it have been slept in? Will I have spent another open-eyed night wishing the sun would rise more quickly and yet not rise at all?

And I have two arms. One I wrap around my body, tightly, because there is no one next to me to do it. One I keep free to wipe tears. The pain is too much.

And the fear is crippling. When health is but a fantasy, the future is but a question mark.

And I want to be hopeful. Sometimes it feels like I am winning, because I have a voice in my mind that tells me that right now is not really all that bad. Manageable. Definitely not the worst I’ve had. Perspective. You know the sort.

But there’s always a tonight, and I don’t want to get up in the morning.

~~~

Ella

Song Quote:

I got locked inside a sadness, I got lost inside my head, couldn’t find a light to make me glow. -Holes, Layla

Describe the Pain

You ask me how it feels.

How it feels?

Describe the pain.

The pain?

That I can’t.

~~~

It is a thin, gray substance that coats my entire body. It is elastic – it clings to every fold, crevice, dip and bulge. It is a glove, not a mitten, covering each of my fingers individually. It is a film around my eyeballs. It’s a thick platform beneath the soles of my feet. It is weaved within the hair that I chopped off. It is my outer layer of skin.

It is like a rubber band. If I focus, really hard, I can push it out – away from me – enough to let air in. If I push it really far, it lets hope in. But you must understand what being rubber means: it will always snap back. The minute you forget to focus on the light and hope, it smacks back, vacuuming itself to your body.

You can see through it, in the way that others don’t see it at all. You can see what you’re missing, but there isn’t a thing you can do about it. It is like walking with a heavy cloud above your head every day, except the cloud is not above you but within you.

It is as strong as I am. The harder I fight to be rid of it, the harder it fights to stay with me. Because it is me. It’s my brain, it’s my wiring, and it’s my nerves. It has my nerve.

~~~

Ella

Song Quote:

We’re tethered to the story we must tell. -Turning Page, Sleeping At Last