i don’t mean good in the sense that it feels better once i do it. i mean a good, strong, ugly, big, fat cry so i can put on my pants without sobbing. or leave the house without having a panic attack. or burst into tears when i’m feeling avocados for ripeness in the produce aisle at the grocery store.

because i’ve done all of that already this week. and i’m at a point now, where i know i need to let out at least some of those tears before i even attempt to put on makeup, or meet a friend for coffee- because if i don’t get it out of my system, it has a tendency to creep up on me when i least expect it. and the last thing i need right now, is for the homeless people on the busiest street in my city neighbourhood to look at me like i’m a fucking lunatic.

even though i feel like a fucking lunatic.

i’m hurting.

and it’s not the icky kind of hurt you get after a boy leaves you, or the kind  that stings your skin- like a scrape.

it’s the kind that swallows your insides whole. the kind of pain that sucker-punches you in the gut when you’re already down. the kind that knocks your head into the wall when you already have a migraine. the kind that makes you feel like you’re about to throw up, and you shiver every time you’re forced to keep it down. it’s a pain so real, so dark, so fucking consuming that it hurts to swing my legs over the side of my bed, so i can stand up and start my day. because i already know the worst part of every day is realizing i’ll have to sleep only to wake up at some point and start over again. hour, after hour, after day, after week.

i’ve been without work for seven months. i’ve been without love, and stability, and confidence, and comfort, and money for equally as long. i hadn’t a real clue as to what that kind of lack, or loss could do to a person. i used to envy this life. envy a life of sleep and irresponsibility and carelessness and freedom.

but now i just feel broken.

and how cliché is that?

i’ve spent all of this time putting on some sort of show, but the curtain inevitably closed, and the walls finally caved in, and when everyone had eventually left the theatre, there wasn’t anyone left to save me. i can’t remember ever feeling so helpless. and for the first time i’m crying out for someone to reach down, grab my hand, and pull me from the darkness… but i don’t feel any better. in fact i only feel worse when i admit defeat when i’m still living it.

i know i’ll pull through.

the way i pulled through countless times before this.

it’s just really hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when i feel this fucking trapped.

and i’ve opened the fucking floodgates.

and i miss you.

i miss you so fucking much.

a written letter to m, in the early summer of 2008

—

m,

you were my temporary insanity.

i have come to terms with the fact that i met you for a reason, and i’ve stopped agonizing over what my life would be like had i never spoken to you in the first place. i’ve decided to stop living with regrets- to stop beating myself up over the things i could have done differently. i am impulsive, and you know better than anyone that i wear my heart on my sleeve. this is something i’ve had to deal with all my life (especially with you), and the consequences weren’t always good, and they were never easy, but i’m still learning. i’m growing into myself and although i may be burning bridges, hurting myself, or fucking up horribly along the way- that’s okay.

i will always resent you and the things you’ve done. but a small part of me is glad i did everything the way i have. you & our relationship were a lesson on life, love, growth, pain, and utter desperation. sometimes it was perfect, and other times it hurt like hell- but at least what we had was passionate.

you were a very difficult person to love.

i was so afraid to move on and separate myself from the only things i knew. i couldn’t accept nostalgia, or the look on your face when i’d walk right past you: a ghost; a shadow. i had people tugging at me from every which way- pushing, pulling. but not now, things have changed. i will look forward to new lovers, future endeavours. i will soar greatly, and fail miserably. i will be in and out of trouble. i will open myself up to greater possibilities, compatible people, love. i will learn to accept myself in all of my imperfection; in my successes, in my downfalls.

a man once told me “to hate takes as much effort as it does to love… let go, be indifferent, otherwise you will always be bound to him”, and i never quite understood what he meant by that, until now. you will be nothing more than a stranger on the street, a face in the crowd, a discarded memory.

thank you, and good riddance.

- e

i googled pictures of the coast starlight. of the beautiful scenery you’ll get to soak in; this extraordinary gift you’re giving yourself. and while i am thrilled for you, i couldn’t help but sift through these images and be jealous. and then angry. and then unbelievably sad. maybe it’s because i know i am a nervous traveler, and it would kill me not to experience such beauty with someone i love. or maybe it’s because i resent you for leaving me -this- to set off on these adventures by yourself.

i know it isn’t the case.

but the longer you are gone, the angrier i am getting.

the less patience i have.

i’ve waited for you- my god, i have fucking waited.

and the night before you left, i wrote you a long-winded letter. it’s a few pages long, and i wrote it in pen, and it fucking rhymes. i was clutching it between my little fingers on the car ride to the airport, and my heart was pounding so loud in my chest i could barely hear anything you were saying. i was fighting back the tears, and looking out the window. and every time i caught you looking at me- at my hands, in my eyes… i felt smaller, and smaller. like nothing i could possibly do even mattered, because you were going to get out of that car, and throw your duffel bag over your shoulder, hug me long and hard one last time, and then you were going to get on that stupid plane.

i breathed you in one last time- your t-shirt smelling of my laundry detergent, your hair smelling of my products, and your neck smelling like you always have (safe, comforting), and i crumpled up the letter in my hand, and let you walk away without giving it to you.

you’re not really a “letter” kind of guy, anyway.

that’s where i question things.

i let you see me all snotty, and sick. you let me sleep for days in your bed when i was too ill to make it home. you throw me over your shoulder, and put me in the cart at the grocery store and help me with my groceries when i am too injured to walk. you stay up all night watching our favourite shows and making me laugh, and scratching my head til i fall asleep… you give me fresh produce from your fridge, hang all your clothes in my closet, and take me to dinner regularly. you have clearly become one of the most important people in my life, and yet i didn’t have the courage to give you my shitty, rhyming love letter.

the way i feel about you hasn’t changed in the least. it’s just that i am beginning to question how long i can idly sit by and watch my life happen, while you’re away. i can’t promise that i haven’t fallen for someone else, or let my heart wander. i can’t promise that i haven’t kissed his lips and felt everything inside of me go to mush. and i can’t promise that when he smiles at me, that i don’t feel it in the pit of my stomach, either. i am only human, and you need to understand that while i whole-heartedly love everything about you, everything that makes you who you are… i can’t help but worry that my feelings aren’t being looked out for. and although a part of me wants to crawl under my covers, cry, and wait for you to come home, a bigger part of me wants independence. and freedom. and love.

i want love, okay?

and you know what never fucking worked for me?

hope.

i can’t just hope you’ll want me when you come home- and i’m really beginning to question whether my heart could even handle rejection from you. i’m not sure i’ve prepared myself enough to put myself in that kind of position.

- an excerpt from the letter

i can still fill my days trying- because i’m yours from the bottom to the top, and i’m not just saying i’ll be here for you, i’m saying i‘ll never stop.

and you know what hurts the most?

that i just might stop.

MY VEGAN DIET

HANGING OUT WITH THESE TWO BUTTS WAY MORE REGULARLY

on the flip-side i am NOT STOKED ON GROWING MY HAIR OUT

i cried.

and not because it was so achingly beautiful, and devastatingly cliché (although it was), but because it really hit close to home. we had the same conversation before you left, and it felt almost exactly alike, only it was different in that angel leans in and kisses her instead of walking away.

and you walked away.

teenage drama series from the 90′s: 1
little elle: 0

“How lucky I am, to have something
that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
– A. A. Milne

how fitting.

four hours ago my favourite person in the world boarded a plane to california, and my world stopped spinning on its axis. i spent every single night falling asleep next to him for months, and now i can’t even fathom how i could close my eyes knowing i won’t wake up to him. i woke up before him this morning, narrowed my eyes on my favourite parts of him- his jawline and how it connects to the softest part of his neck, the freckles on his back and how i could connect the dots from memory, his perfectly manicured fingertips and the way they clutched his naked chest in his sleep.

it’s weird you know… to invest yourself so much emotionally in someone you don’t even get to kiss goodnight, or hold hands with in the car. i can’t count the amount of times i wanted to wrap my hand around his, as he tapped the stick shift to the beat of his favourite songs. i’d casually glance over at him, cruising down the city streets, and i’d be completely caught off-guard by how handsome he was. he had these really intense moments of blue-eyed beauty and it felt like i was getting sucker-punched in the gut when he’d look back at me, and shoot me a quirky half-smile.

it knocked the wind right out of my lungs.

he winked at me once when i was eighteen years old, and i haven’t picked my heart up from off the ground since.
you told me you wanted to eat up my sadness
well jump on, enjoy, you can gorge away
you told me you wanted to eat up my sadness
baby, you’ve got to be more discerning
I’ve never known what’s good for me
baby, you’ve got to be more demanding

what are you holding out for?
what’s always in the way?
why so damn absent-minded?
why so scared of romance?

this modern love breaks me
this modern love wastes me
- bloc party

come home.

i miss you too much already.

i didn’t realize i could live without the internet so long, but alas. i don’t necessarily need to elaborate on the how‘s & why‘s i was gone for so long, but i am glad to be back. and because i am totally superficial, i have pictures of some of the changes i’ve made over the past few months!

first! i am no longer a fake ginger, i’m a brunette!

secondly, katie and i traded bedrooms. i missed my little olive room, and i’m happy with the final set-up!

i also borrowed a friend’s tv stand, and put my tv in the living room- i’m loving how it looks now!

i got my nose pierced

i got a new tattoo

how selfish of you to believe
in the meaning of all the bad dreaming
metal heart you’re not hiding
metal heart you’re not worth a thing
- cat power

and for health & moral reasons, changed my entire diet, and went vegan (i’m about a month in and feeling incredible!), i also just bought the cutest mug (found here)

and since i’m on a roll, i’ll go ahead and say i recently sprained my ankle and tore all the ligaments in my foot, basically. i only started walking again yesterday, and i am going INSANE. here’s what it looked like a few days in…

things to remember: i am loco in the head, and also crutches? THAT SHIT IS HARD.

i’m better now- i can h0bble around, and i wear a sock over my tensor bandage to leave the house. thank goodness for amazing friends (brad, mostly) for throwing me over their shoulder and driving my gimp ass around, taking me out to dinner regularly, picking up food so i don’t die, and also fetching just about everything i ask for, ever.

pros of not being able to walk: SITTING IN THE CART AT THE GROCERY STORE (!!!) like a two year old,

cons: everything else.

misery loves finding me and then fucking with my shit. real talk.

SCIENCE.

i haven’t even attempted to look for work, and i have been coasting for months, now. i’m not sure how i feel about it, except that i am certainly not at peace with anything yet. it’s been frustrating because i thought i was more aware and capable of my feelings. when i finally left my job, i was in a terribly dark place. i figured the more time i had off, the easier things would start to feel, but i was horribly wrong. i have so, so, so much time alone with my thoughts- all this time alone with myself. you have to be pretty okay with yourself as a human being if you’re going to be spending weeks at a time trying to keep your body & mind busy enough not to slip back into a place you don’t want to be.

am i there yet?

i don’t think so…

but i was laying in my best friend’s bed, drinking coffee i can’t afford, listening to news stories i probably should give more of a shit about, and i said it- “i never want to fucking work again”. he laughed, as always. but i was serious. the idea of getting back into a routine, working a job that doesn’t stimulate me or make me adequately happy- it fucking terrifies me. i know this is my life, and it’s up to me to make it incredible and wonderful, but i am so stuck. i don’t have the motivation to do something remarkable. how pathetic is that?

to be fair, sobriety hasn’t been an issue. i haven’t gotten absolutely fucked up wasted in weeks, and i feel pretty proud of that. i attended my super good friends’ wedding, had a couple of drinks, danced my heart out, cried a little, and felt pretty excited about the entire event. which, hello… people are getting married, and i haven’t crawled into bed to cry for six days straight, so you know… progress, etc.

and at the break of day
after all the stars are gone away
we can get high and watch T.V.
with our big fat red hearts hangin’ down to our knees
- royal city

i have this irrational fear of change. my best friend is leaving for the winter and my heart is heavier than a ton of bricks. teeter-tottering between the weight of my insides nearly bursting at the seams, and having them shrink to the size of a penny when i think about the months i’ll spend without the one person in this world who understands absolutely every single feeling in my heart- it kills me. i hate that i won’t spend afternoons alone with him in his bedroom, just talking. i can’t begin to wrap my head around the idea of him not living down the street, not being a phone call away. i’ve let myself get too close, and i worry things will change when he leaves. i worry i’ll lose the most important bond i have with someone in my life right now. he’s my person. the person i call when i am happy, or sad, or mad, or bored, or crazy, or worried, or messy. the person i can sit next to, and feel one hundred times better just by being next to him. i’ve had to cut our hangouts short because i am overwhelmed by the lump in my throat and the way i constantly have to fight back the urge i have to cry whenever i am around him. i know he needs to go, and i want him to be happy, and healthy, and i want him to do the things that make him happy. i am just horribly selfish when it comes to loving someone, and wanting them near. i’m anticipating an ugly goodbye (a snotty, teary, horrible messy goodbye- on my behalf, obviously), but i can only hope that he’ll come back to the city with a whole heart, and hundreds of stories to tell- as he always would. and hopefully like, presents, and stuff.

i love the sound of the rain falling down
i love it when your eyes look directly into mine
- royal city

that being said, i think i have too much time on my hands- which is funny because i have been so ridiculously busy these last few days. i know things will sort themselves out, and when things are less hectic i’ll be able to enjoy things more successfully.

in the meantime though? i’ll work on my composure, and consistency.

i promise.

i think?

… or maybe it will

—

him: it’s not early, go to sleep peanut!
me: oh my gosh. see you in the morning, sweetness!

i’m not kidding.