Orange.

Who knew a butchered orange could be so sweet?

 

Standing in my kitchen and the dark world beyond can see us so clearly in the light. I think to myself, we’re like a normative couple with the time to cook together. We’re swaying to music and I smile at him as he’s focused on his mission of – making dinner. I pass him by the stove and he swivels us against the sink and I smile at him as he’s focused on his mission of – kissing me. He leans back and I lean into him and still we sway to the music and still the dark world beyond can see us so clearly and I think to myself, 

Is it the motown that makes us unreal?

 

I take him on park tours and he tells me everything and he knows how to make my heart miss a beat. I read him like an open book and we both think we aren’t photogenic (but love pictures) and  I own fairy lights. I barely notice his British accent anymore and we text each other black and white pictures of couples from a different century and he likes gummy candies (and beer). I worry about him being sad and he makes me promise to wake him up in the night if I don’t feel well and we read each other poetry. We visit his dad for afternoon tea and he sees right through me and we sit on a beach staring out at the sea. We sandwich our phones away and he holds his hand against my cheek and we watch a movie with my family and I think to myself, 

Is it the lighting that makes us unreal?

 

We’re young and the future is far away, but we’re not that young together and the future is on our minds. Together and apart we ponder this relationship and how can our hearts feel so strongly so quickly? We take it in turns and we yearn for some answer that will be enough. How will this go, how will this end, will this end – we freak out. We’re too young to have answers, or maybe we won’t ever have any, in fact – maybe it’s best if we forget all about the questions. We’re young together and actually not that young and what if this is the beginning of the story? Hand on heart, because it feels so right, and he tells me he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop and perhaps so am I. But I look at him when we go dancing and when he quotes a reference of mine back at me and and when he chuckles his little boy chuckle and I think to myself,

Is it the timing that make us unreal?

 

Sunlight reaching through the cracked open window because maybe our emotions needed a way to escape the room. Reality roaring it’s wretched wrath and crawling past our gaze, announcing the dawn of a new day and another goodbye. We almost got used to not missing each other. It’s time to go back to, “I love you, sweetie, I’ve got to go now.” But I don’t want to forget the way he smiles a tiny smile when he calls me honeybunny and how it feels to be in his strong embrace, pressed against his body, lining up because we fit (his arms containing my Goodbye Sadness). Little, kisses, squeeze, it’s so cold when he leaves, and I think to myself, 

Is it the distance that makes us unreal? 

 

A butchered orange has never been this sweet. 

~~~

Ella

Song Quote:

I’ll paint the picture, let me set the scene, you know, the future’s in the hands of you and me… but what do I know? -What Do I Know, Ed Sheeran

Goodbye.

 

All of my adjectives might just never be enough for this.

It ended with a smile, a kiss and a hug.

It ended with pictures, gifts and moving words.

It ended with stories of the beginning and the excitement of adventures up ahead.

It ended with the feeling that I am incredibly cherished and loved.

It ended with the knowledge that these people, my people, believe in me.

It ended, and I’m feeling brave.

A long time ago I wrote in tiny letters along the edge of a collage: I know we’ll be fine when we learn to love the ride. I’m starting a new collage and along the edge I will write: She believed she could so she did.

It ended without a real goodbye, because we all know this isn’t the end…

~~~

Ella

Song Quote:

I’ll softly rise and I’ll gently call, goodnight and joy be with you all. -The Parting Glass, Ed Sheeran

Feeling Pathetic – The Love Song Compilation

I promised myself I would focus on this year. I promised myself I would invest my heart and soul into my volunteer work. I promised myself I wouldn’t worry too much about the future. I’ve been absolutely successful. I feel efficient, proficient, professional, and most of all: valuable. The office is going to be shocked when I leave and they realize how much of their work I’ve been taking care of.

 

But tonight I’d really like to feel pathetic and compile all of the song quotes about love that are waiting in my journal to be used. Because it’s okay to feel lonely and to wonder. Rather than finding myself in the midst of a fluttering romance, I’ve found myself listening to everyone else talking about their partners, and I feel as alone as ever.

 

Let’s just do this, and give me the strength not to feel mortified and go back and delete it.

 

~~~

 

Two young hearts will meet in the middle and a light will flicker on, where there once was none. –The Chambers and the Valves, Dry the River

 

Should this be the last thing I see, I want you to know it’s enough for me, ‘cause all that you are is all that I’ll ever need. I’m so in love, so in love, so in love, so in love. –Tenerife Sea, Ed Sheeran

 

Step out into the wild, there’s a beautiful storm in your eyes, we’re perfectly intertwined and if it’s quite all right, you could be my way of life. –Into The Wild, Lewis Watson

 

Yesterday, you asked me something I thought you knew, so I told you with a smile ‘It’s all about you’. Then you whispered in my ear and you told me too, said, ‘You make my life worthwhile, it’s all about you’. –All About You, McFly

 

When we sleep at night I hope that we write novels in our minds of what to tell each other when we wake. –Novels, Rusty Clanton (Possibly the favorite of the favorites)

 

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight, lead me out on the moonlit floor, lift your open hand, strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon’s sparkling… so kiss me. –Kiss Me, Sixpence None the Richer

 

You can see it with the lights out, lights out, you are in love, true love, you are in love.

–You Are In Love, Taylor Swift

Fun story to go with this one: when my mom had been dating my dad for a few months they went to visit her parents, who lived very far away. She was telling my grandmother about how much she missed him every time he travelled and said she didn’t understand why it felt so terrible. My grandmother looked at her and said, “My sweet, beautiful, darling daughter: you are in love.” All of my relatives can quote that line of my grandmother’s word for word. Taylor’s intonation of “you” is the same as my grandmother’s was.

Speaking of my grandmother… I just remembered that a few years ago I found these slides of pictures from my grandparents’ old house (we’re going with the flow of my randomness tonight):

 

All my little plans and schemes, lost like some forgotten dream. Seems like all I really was doing was waiting for you… It’s real love. –Real Love, Tom Odell (Also all of “Grow Old With Me”)

 

My youth, my youth is yours, a truth so loud you can’t ignore. –Youth, Troye Sivan (Technically doesn’t sound like a love song, but in my mind – seeing as I haven’t yet met my person and my youth is coming to an end – I sometimes think of falling in love as deciding to share a past we didn’t have together… my youth.)

 

~~~

 

Why did I do this? I’m going to regret doing this. I’m not going to want anyone to look at my blog ever again. What am I thinking?

But, I must say, these are all fabulous songs that have been waiting to appear on my blog for a long time now. I recommend looking them all up and listening to them, because they aren’t my loves (see what I did there) simply for their words, but for their melodies too. Can we pretend I wrote this simply as a service for the greater good of blog readers, to spread the joy of music?

Ella

 

P.s. I organized the quotes in alphabetical order by the first name of the singer, because anything else felt too preferential.

 

 

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

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

Yes, I’m Collecting Scraps

 

The cover of the scrapbook. Poet, Bastille

Scrapbooking is not something new or something unheard of, but it is something that I think is underappreciated. It gives validation to my belief that there is meaning behind everything! That every candy wrapper can have sentimental value and every picture has a story that deserves to be written next to it. As you may have noticed, I like recording things and having written reminders of my thoughts and feelings (more on this topic in my upcoming posts – see Posting Schedule), and therefore my having started another scrapbook is not exactly surprising. I’m still going to tell you all about it though.

1. At work the other day I needed a nametag for an event, and someone showed me how to use the label maker. Yes, they have a label maker. Yes, they are the coolest people ever. I printed my name inside a candy wrapper frame a couple of times, and one of them is now on the back of my scrapbook. I’m not even going to try to cover up the fact that the label maker totally made my day and that maybe the single best thing in my room right now is my sticker label.

2. I stayed over at a friend’s house in a another city, and we bought frozen yogurt (because, um, what I do with my friends is eat frozen yogurt… I promise we do do other things too. Like laugh at “do do”). I saved the stamp card I got and made sure not to lose it, and it’s now in my scrapbook.

3. Every now and then, late in the evening, when I’m in a certain mood, I let myself float through YouTube for longer than recommended by, well, anyone. On one such night I lost myself in a flurry of commencement speeches, and I landed on one given by John Green. It is by far the best speech I have ever heard. I transcribed large sections of it, and it is now written in my scrapbook.

Part I

Part II

Part III

These three examples demonstrate what my scrapbook means to me. The things in there might not be the most beautiful or the most impressive, but to me they mean something. Every time I see my name on the back of it I will remember my (slightly) out of proportion excitement, and how sweet everyone at work was that day. Every time I see the frozen yogurt card I’ll remember hanging out with my friend and her boyfriend in a park playing Heads Up in the dark. Every time I read the highlights of the speech I will remember to let myself be inspired (though I have something against that word) and remember all of the people I have read it aloud to.

And of course, let us not forget, that my scrapbook is also full of collages and song quotes. Because, well… it’s me. Way back when, during what feels like forever ago, I wrote a whole post* about how I want to fall in love and it all had to do with listening to Ed Sheeran’s love songs. Without further ado, the love page of my scrapbook:

Thinking Out Loud + Afire Love

*clears throat* Okay, back to business. I’m simply writing this to encourage you to maybe give scrapbooking a try and to share with you what I have been busy doing lately. Mission accomplished, right? Okay, fine, I’ll answer that myself: right!

 

Yours truly,

And babbling because that’s the mood I’m in right now,

Ella

 

Song Quote:

Where you invest your love, you invest your life. –Awake My Soul, Mumford & Sons

P.s. Tweet me with your examples of #RainbowArea!

*The post is called When You Wake Me Up

 

I didn’t even realize this is my 50th post! That’s insane! Please leave me a comment with the words (fifty, fiftieth, five, zero) or the number 50 in it. Let’s see what you can come up with :) get creative!

The Strike

 

I would say the past couple weeks have been like a roller-coaster, but I’ve never been on one, so I don’t think I have that right. What have I been on? Trains. Busses. Planes. Pain meds. Herbal extracts. Okay: the past couple weeks have been like travelling in a bus that’s on pain meds, and therefore can’t figure out if it’s actually a plane or a train. Stir in herbal extracts.

Last week I wrote (and didn’t post): “I feel so pathetic. I’m so tired. I don’t even know how I made it through the day. I just don’t know what the point is anymore. I fight and I fight, I write inspiring words on my blog and tell people that I’m okay, it’s hard but I’m okay, but I am not okay. It’s all futile, all the hard work and the torturous treatments, they aren’t working, they aren’t fixing me, I’m still like this…. It all just seems impossible. It feels like I’m being punished, and yet held up on a pedestal by my teachers who admire how I handle it all. I don’t want it anymore. But what always happens is going to happen again – I’ll feel like this, I’ll go to sleep, I’ll wake up, I’ll start getting ready and then I’ll just go through the motions of life and time will pass and before you know it I will have ‘made it through the day’ and be ‘coping’ again. It’s inevitable.

I…

I…

I’m… just so               

Tired. Of all of it. I can’t hold back the tears any longer. How am I going to make it through? Is this all that life is, just awful things and ‘coping’? Is this what the rest of my days will look like? Cause today was bad.

I feel helpless, and hopeless.

E.”

From the strength going on in my last post, I went into a tsunami of fatigue. It lasted a while. I spent the whole next day just staring, because I was too tired to even read. I only smiled once — smiling isn’t energy conserving. The next day I had a test, and the only thoughts I had the whole time were, “Yeah, I know the answer to that. Oh, I have to write it down? I need to move my hand? Do I really? What will happen if I don’t? I don’t think I can. I’m so tired.”

There was also an annoying question on the test that required some calculations (it wasn’t a math test) and I knew that with the brain fog happening I would mess the calculations up and lose the points for the question, so I politely raised my hand.

Me: I know it’s pathetic and sad, but I need a calculator to answer this question.

Teacher: Really? Ella, you really need a calculator? You’re serious?

Me: Yeah, I really do. I honestly don’t know what a million divided by five is right now.

Teacher: Really? Really? You don’t know how to do that? Are you joking?

Me: No, I’m not joking. Can I use a calculator or not?!

Teacher: Okay, I’ll tell you. What do you want to do?

Me: A million divided by five.

Teacher: Ella, it’s 200,000.

It’s a good thing I asked, because I thought it was 250,000. When I’m that sick, I can’t think! I was not happy with my teacher for the way he responded, loudly, in front of the whole class, making a big deal over the fact that I couldn’t do simple math. He’s not a mean guy and he really didn’t mean to be mean. He generally means well and he’s been very kind to me, but sometimes he’s clueless.

If I tell you about every day, this post will never end. I can endlessly find more words to describe my pain and my suffering. In short, I had days that were up and days that were down (like the day that lead to the italics). I had moments of great depression and moments of elevation. Well, maybe elevation is a little extreme; moments of feeling slightly hopeful. Another test this week was messed up because of fibro fog. It’s so frustrating; it’s not that I don’t know the material, it’s that I can’t get it out of my brain.

My right foot has gone off its rockers. I was talking to a friend who lives on the other side of the world and suddenly my toe just dislocated itself. It felt like the toe next to my big one (does it have a name?) just snapped downwards and underneath the one on its right, and I couldn’t get it to move back. My whole foot kind of seized up and I just looked through the camera at my friend and said “I have to go call my mom now”. I wrote to her later and explained it all. I have no idea what it was, just some weird cramp, but it was extremely painful and scary. It went back into place after I laid it on a heating pack, and I know that it didn’t actually dislocate itself, but it felt like it did.

Then a few days ago, when I was having an up day, I had a couple friends over for a movie, and when I bent down to press play it happened again, exactly the same way: suddenly, without me having done anything, my toe just pops out of place and gets locked in a different position. I must say, I’m very proud of the way I handle sudden pain. I am the picture of serenity. Ish. Anyway, it went kind of like, “Hey, do you think you could reach above the fridge? There’s a purple pillow there. Yeah, could you just stick that in the microwave and hit start? Oh, thanks! What? Oh, nothing. My toe just feels weird. Yeah, I’m fine on the floor. Oh, thanks, that’s really sweet, but I honestly don’t think it would go well if the two of you tried to lift me and swing me on the couch. I’m good, I’ll sit here for a few minutes.”

Other than that the night was great. Unfortunately I still feel it spazzing out. My whole foot has been cramping ever since and my toe still feels dislocated. There seems to be no end to the weird sensations that plague my body daily. Sheesh, I sound like I’m 80.

I’m tired. I’m scared I’m going to run out of fuel at some point. I have a few high-pressure weeks ahead of me, but I need to work a lot on calming down, seeing as that is probably the cause of the foot fiasco, as I have taken to calling since half-a-second ago.

Yours,

Ella

Song Quote:

I think I’m being shunned by my feet… again. –Homeless, Ed Sheeran

Okay, I’ll admit, I have been waiting a long time to use that quote. Glad it works so well here!

 

P.S. I would love it if you would leave a comment with your favorite quote. It can be from a song, something you saw online, a well-known person’s fancy sentence, a life motto, anything that comes to mind when you see this, really. If you know where the quote is from/ who said it, please include that too. Thank you in advance!

 

Colloquial Miss

 

What a colloquial miss. We tried, we really did. This is just the I-don’t-know-how-many-I’ve-lost-count day that has gone down this way. My friends are all away, having themselves some great adventures, and I made my peace with the fact that I was going to be sticking out our weeklong break at home (sweet home). I had a highlight planned: completing the first step in the agonizingly long process of getting my driver’s license.

First thing’s first, I have to get my “green slip”- green as in go. Or Kermit. It’s mainly a technicality, an eyesight check, but you need it before you can start everything. I’ve been spending my days trying to catch up on homework, which I’m somehow still behind on, and I haven’t had any fun. At all. This was the one thing I was really looking forward to. The first step- it’s so momentous.

When you go, they make sure you don’t need glasses, take your picture (which is the one that will go on your license) and hand you your green slip. So, I purposely straightened my bangs today, picked out a shirt that makes my neck look great (just go with it) and brings out the blue in my eyes, and put on a tad of make up. I spent the whole entire day doing homework, primarily math (a whooping 65 geometry proofs and differential math equations for over vacation), making it through solely because I had something to look forward to. I was alone at home all day, with the excitement just growing and throbbing inside of me, pulsing with my heart.

My mom swooped by the house at a quarter to seven, and we drove to the mall, to the store that green slips people (awkward verb improvisation going on here). We arrive, after my long day of anticipation, and my mom and I talk about how exciting all of this is, and how it’s such a big step even though it’s a technicality. We walk into the store, tell them why we’re there and what do they say? “We don’t do that anymore”. You’re kidding me right?

We find out that as of a few days ago or something equally annoying in a ridiculous manner, a store on the main street is in charge of green slipping people. My puffed up plastic bag of anticipation started deflating. My mom and I leave the mall, get back in the car and start driving again. It was so anticlimactic. She agrees with me. We parked in the municipal parking lot off of the Main Street and start in our mad dash to find the infamous store. We’re running, running, running, (running), and we arrive out of breath as we see the overhead sign. We practically leap forward, and guess what? It’s closed. It closed at seven.

You’re frickin’ kidding me, right?! RIGHT?!

Wrong.

Closed.

That plastic bag still half full of spitty air? Punctured. Slashed. Empty. Hollow. Deflated. Depressing. Gone. Lost for eternity.

In an attempt to rebound into something positive, we brought my memory stick over to a photography store to get the pictures on it developed. All’s great, all’s well, until they let us know that because they’re closing soon, we’ll need to come back tomorrow to pick up the pictures. Yippee.

So we got frozen yogurt.

But do you know what this means? This means, that when we go back tomorrow my hair will be oily, I will no longer be wearing my perfect picture shirt, I’ll have dark circles under my eyes (because I can’t sleep when I’m upset) and I will have no spitty bag of anticipation. I will look tired and depressed in my picture. And the lighting in that store is awful. I will end up looking grotesque.

But here’s to being optimistic, eh?

As we were sitting outside the frozen yogurt shop, while I drowned my sorrows in banana-date flavored yogurt, I explained to my mom why the situation sucks so much. I was just getting to the part about how I look pretty today, and I won’t tomorrow, when someone walked right by our table. So a random woman got a mouthful about how “I looked pretty today!!!” My mom started laughing when the woman looked back at us, and tried to console me with the fact that at least it wasn’t a boy from my class. You know why it wasn’t one of them? Because they’re all abroad! I’ve got friends right now in Rome, Barcelona, Amsterdam, Switzerland, Thailand, New York… Everywhere but right here, suffering with me. Although I think J will be back from Barcelona soon. Maybe I can depress her too. Here’s to hoping.

You know what? I wasn’t planning on doing this tomorrow. This is messing up my schedule! I’m lying, I have no plans. It’s just annoying. It’s doubly sad: I need to go there again, and I don’t have any plans.

I’m just gonna go to bed now. I think it’s safe.

It’s me,

Ella

Song Quote:

The worst things in life come free to us. –The A Team, Ed Sheeran

P.s. You know what? I’m gonna wear this shirt again. Take that.

When You Wake Me Up

(I suggest putting on Ed’s song, that I have so kindly placed on the right side of your screen if you scroll down up a bit, before starting to read. I was listening to it while I wrote this.)

It’s really early in the morning. I’m in a kind of dreamy state, and all I keep thinking is: I want a man to love me. It’s funny, and I’m smiling, because that is so random. It doesn’t have much to do with my life at the moment. I’m sixteen, I’ve never been asked out, never been liked by a guy (as far as I’m aware), and that’s fine. I’m okay with being single. I have my entire life to know what it feels like to be in love.

This might all be because I listened to some very sweet love songs last night, right before I went to bed. Ed Sheeran has a few new songs out, and one of them is called “New York”. It is so sweet, and loving, and I want a man to call me darling like that, and tell me he will be there for me at the end of the night in the back of the taxicab. Come to think of it, I want a man who can sing Ed’s songs to me.

It’s five in the morning, which may be contributing to the fact that I seem to have no inhibitions right now. I don’t think I would have the guts to write the previous paragraph if I were fully awake and the sun were up. Good to know: never make important decisions at this hour.

I have to have certain tests done today, and you need to be awake for three hours before they’re done. And fasting. I don’t know which I hate more. Basically, my alarm was set for 4:45, and apparently knowing you’re going to have to wake up that hour makes it very hard to fall asleep. Funny story, I didn’t. Fall asleep, that is. I am so tired. As soon as the tests are over and I’ve gotten some food in me, I have to rush to school because I’ll be late as it is, then have a full day until 4:30. Odds are, I will be feeling so sick after just a couple hours that I will need to come home. Not sleeping doesn’t do wonders for Fibromyalgia. Surprise.

Okay, but I don’t want to talk about Fibro anymore. I wrote about my school trip that I mentioned in my previous post, but it was a disaster (the trip, not the post) and my family was having a really bad week, so in the end it didn’t come out so great because I was sobbing while I was writing it. It seems to be an occupational hazard. Basically, the trip was awful, my sisters were in a car accident, our Internet broke for a few days (starting the day of the trip and the accident- wonderful timing), and everyone just had a pretty bad week. I’m not so sure that not sleeping well, having a biology test, a literature test, having to study for a math test, and having biology classes on my day off  hold the promise of a much better week, I’m afraid.

But while we’re here, and my inhibitions are not, let me divulge more. I know I write well, and it’s my dream to write a novel (/finish one), but I don’t think I’m very good at writing fiction. Doesn’t that suck? I think it does. Right now I’m telling myself that is isn’t working because I don’t have a story to tell. You can’t force a plot, right? But I also have a hard time making characters believable, because I don’t believe them myself.  Maybe I need to meet more people.

The sun is starting to come up, and I don’t have much else to say. I want to have a really great life, with a really great man, who loves me. Oh, maybe that’s why! I just read a book called The Shoemaker’s Wife, and it’s a really beautiful love story (I cried hysterically at the end. It was ridiculous, but I couldn’t stop. My sister was trying to comfort me, and I said this and she’ll never let me forget it now: “I’ve known them their whole lives!”). Maybe that’s why I’m thinking about love. Put that together with Ed’s voice, and you get a romantic like myself dreaming whilst awake at 5 in the morning.

Ta da.

Love!

Ella

Song Quote:

It’s just reached the morning, You’re still in my arms, Now we stop driving, Down the boulevard, And I just kissed you, darling, I hope you weren’t alarmed, It’s just the start of everything you want. –New York, Ed Sheeran

P.s. Anybody get the title reference?

The Little Things

I like writing g’s, because it’s fun. I like bobby pins, balloons, stools, mug handles and zippers. I like honesty, erasers, flags, glue, furniture, faucets, blankets, railings, calculators and magnets.

I like the little things. Only recently have I been able to curate such joy from all of these, and it’s a good thing I have. I’ve been having a hard time, with a lot on my plate. Too much. It’s like when you’re at a brunch, and there are so many good foods that you just take a bunch of everything, but your plate is way too small to hold it all. As much as I try, after piling it high, there simply isn’t any more room for those five pastries and two apples I want as well. No more room.

But then, if I’m going to continue this ridiculous metaphor, I suddenly realize how beautiful it is that apples are juicy, and that the pastry I’m stuffing in my mouth was just dough a few hours ago. I see the stool in the corner, the blanket over the couch, and the mug handle I’m be holding. I’m just so filled with glee that I don’t notice that everything on my plate has just fallen on the floor and is now sticking to it, thanks to the glue I spilled earlier.

FIN metaphor.

What I’m trying to say is, maybe my days will look brighter now that I’m seeing the positive light. That was a pretty sentence. Maybe, this is what I need in order to start coping with everything going on: a little appreciation of the underlying particles of my day.

A few posts ago, I talked about “big thinking moments”, when I realize how big the world is and I have really deep moments. Maybe writing g’s plays into that somehow. You know, that whole “big things are made up of small pieces” talk that I wish I had gotten as a kid, but that I now give myself daily.

Living with Fibromyalgia, a chronic pain illness, you sort of start to realize that if you don’t appreciate the small things you have, you won’t have all that much to appreciate. And that sucks.

So now, I enjoy zipping up my jeans, and I smile at my faucets.  I decorated the entire girls bathroom (at school) with Winnie the Pooh stickers, because maybe that can make someone else smile. I’ve started bringing extra forks with me, so every day, I’m someone else’s hero (because I give them the gift of food. Well, the gift of being able to eat their food. Same silver).

All of these, make me feel that maybe I can live with Fibromyalgia, and maybe I will make it out okay.

Huzzah for the little things.

Yours truly,

Ella

Song Quote:

The world looks better through your eyes. –Firefly, Ed Sheeran

P.s. Just checked, the post about “big thinking moments” was I Am Effervescent.