Now.

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I used to wonder. Now I don’t have to. I used to hoard love songs in a playlist called “Some Day”. Now I don’t have to. He was baffled. Now he doesn’t have to be.

Now I don’t need to be confused, or overanalyze, or miss him and worry that he doesn’t miss me or feel the same way.

He misses me. He feels the same way.

And so the girl has a boyfriend.

And she really needs to find a good nickname for him.

~~~

Ella

Song Quote:

It feels so real, lying here with no one near, only you and you can hear me when I say softly, slowly, hold me closer, tiny dancer. -Tiny Dancer, Elton John

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

We Need Therapy

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A conversation between my mind and my stomach, for your amusement. Henceforth, my mind will be called M, and my stomach will be called S.

M: Hey, did you hear that?! We can eat gluten again!

S: Yippee!!! I’m hungry, let’s do this thing.

M: Oh look, there are cookies. Heads up, here they come!

S: Is it just me, or are these cookies strange?

M: What do you mean “strange”? They’re cookies.

S: Yeah, but M, I’m not so sure about this…

M: Oh my god, freshly baked rolls, S!!!

S: I’m not so sure that’s a good idea…

M: Too late, get ready.

S: Ooh…. You know M, I think we need to go to therapy. You really haven’t been listening to me lately. I try to talk to you and tell you how I feel, but it’s like talking to a wall.

M: Oh please, don’t be so melodramatic. Digest your gluten already, the cake’s going to be out of the oven soon.

S: I am not being melodramatic, M. My feelings are real.

M: Okay, yeah, sure.

S: You don’t believe me?!

M: No. I don’t. What are ya gonna do about it, huh?

S: Oh, I’ll show you what I’m going to do about it. I am sick and tired of this, M. A stomach’s gotta feel like it’s appreciated. I’m out.

M: Where, exactly, do you think you’re going to go? Out where?

S: Out of order.

Uh oh….

Yours Truly,

Ella

Song Quote:

Sometimes I wish we could be strangers, so I didn’t have to know your pain. –No Angel, Birdy

Birthday Ramblings – 16

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The dog my parents and I met on our walk along the beach, in honor of my birthday

This Friday, I turned sixteen. An age of promise, opportunities, excitement and adventure. I would really love to believe, with my whole heart, that my year will be like that. The only problem is, I’m afraid it won’t.

I’m scared, I’ll admit it. Being sick is scary, even if I try to ignore it. It could be a lot worse, but it’s bad right now too. When people asked me how old I was turning, and I told them sixteen, each and every asker got this dreamy look in their eyes and told me what a great age sixteen is, how I’m going to have so much fun, how great it will be. Each and every one. I smiled, and nodded. I hope so, I thought to myself.

I miss out on a lot of things kids my age are experiencing, and most of the time I’m okay with that. Maybe I’m even better off without those experiences. But with all of the talk of what a great year I’m supposed to have, I just want to be a normal teenager. One who isn’t quite as limited as I am.

My mom told me that on her seventeenth birthday, she suddenly got very sad that she was no longer sixteen. She said she didn’t really understand it then, and she doesn’t now either. I assume I have no say in the matter, but that’s not what I want to be feeling next year, that I wasted being sixteen. What do I mean about that?

I think I mean, along the lines of what I’ve been thinking these past few weeks, that I don’t want to waste my time on earth being sad or upset. I want to try to get as much out of life as I possibly can, leading as free and happy a lifestyle as I can. I want to explore my abilities, learn about the world around me and enjoy absolutely every relationship I have, be it with family, friends, animals, or inanimate objects. As my friend wrote in my birthday card, “Be JOYOUS! Life, life. Life. Life, life, life, Wooh!”. She’s awesome.

Altogether it was a very nice birthday, compared to my past few (for example, my entire class throwing a surprise party on the day of my birthday for another girl whose birthday was a week away… so nobody could come to mine. Kids are mean). Laid back, pleasant, and quiet, it was along the lines of what I’m up to at the moment.

Back to my main point, which was, I do believe, that I want to enjoy being sixteen. Yeah. I do. That’s basically it. I’ll talk more about fears and joy another time, even though I feel like that’s all I talk about. But, hey, if that’s whats on my mind…. right?

Just smile and nod,

Ella

Song quote:

I’ve come to know that memories were the best things you ever had… steady as the stars in the woods. -Old Pine, Ben Howard

 

P.s. Yay for over a hundred followers! Thank you everyone! It means so much to me to know that people out there are reading what I’m writing, and that maybe, just maybe, it means something to them. So, thank you.