Tuesdays Pinkey Promises

Okayyy, just got back from my second day at school! I have spoken to so many girls, and we have created a class groupchat. Apparently there is a lot of drama to come, at least the older girls said that, but we all promised each other to stay nice. Pinkie promise!

I really need to cut my hair. I need myself to change, honestly. Be softer, kinder, etc... I don't know, I just need my energy back, really. I'm working on it.

Tomorrow after school, dad will drive me to a small ballet shop to buy an outfit to train in. I'm thinking of going pink, but we'll see... My ex best friend has been chatting with me lately, and that's nice! Oh, I don't know what to say. I'm so tired, and have so many things to think about. Luckily, these days are short! Tomorrow I start at 8:30, fix a new PC for myself somehow, get my school books, talk to my teachers, eat lunch and have my first dance lesson with a teacher named Monica! I will wear black 2000s adidas pants and a tank top, I think. It's a starting point, as I plan to get inspiration to all the girls around me for outfits. School ends 13:45. That's early for a girl like me who has had school days from 8:30 to 15:00 every. single. day. for the past year! Let's just ignore the fact that my school days will start ending at 16:30 soon... Ouch. Thursday will be insane, as I start at 9:20, have three classes (two of which are math) and leave at 11:50.

Well, love, Lenna ❤

Hope And Fear

I’ve got my skincare on, hair tied back, and in a few minutes I’ll jump into the shower before I keep packing my bag. Music is playing low in the background, filling the quiet spaces that otherwise feel too heavy.

It’s strange, this mix of hope and fear. I want so badly for this year to be kind to me, for the days to feel lighter, for the nights to feel less draining. But there’s this part of me that’s terrified… terrified of losing energy, of burning out, of not being able to keep up with everything and everyone. I’m scared of running out of the pieces of myself I’ve been holding together for so long.

Still, I’m holding onto hope. I’m hoping that this year doesn’t just take from me, but gives something back. That I’ll find moments where I can breathe without worry, laugh without force, and feel at home in my own skin.

Self-contained

Lenna pictures herself from a distance, the way you’d watch a character in a film. There she is, walking up the front steps of a school she’s never set foot in before. A little too early, bag hanging off one shoulder, hair tucked behind her ears in a way that says don’t look at me but please notice anyway. It’s her eleventh year of school. By now, the rituals are muscle memory, but she wishes she could get new ones. The polished linoleum floors with a faint reflection of sneakers are all too recognizable. She wishes she could just start working and move out, because she has outgrown this. Still, there are three years left. 

Her mother’s voice threads through her mind, saying "Keep your eyes peeled and your head screwed on."

Her mother says it about everything from crossing busy streets to dealing with strangers to navigating supermarket sales. It means look sharp and don’t be a fool. It also means she can’t afford to get swept away by things like popularity or gossip.

From my imagined third-person view, Lenna looks… fine. Not lonely, not desperate, just self-contained. She doesn’t plan on making friends, not because she’s above it, but because she isn’t convinced she needs them to get by. Friends are like dessert: nice if they appear, but she can live without them. She takes a breath, rolls her shoulders back, and walks through the hallways. She doesn’t know what the year will bring, but she likes the way she looks doing it. After three years with a total of 570 school days, she will officially be graduated. It's the final countdown (that's really funny of me actually).

Love, Lenna ❤

Scarecrow

 

Before The Bell Rings

It’s raining today. The kind of rain that doesn’t just fall, but lingers, tapping on the glass as if it wants to be let in. I’m sitting by my window, knees pulled up, trying to memorize the sound before summer slips away completely. There’s only a week left before school begins again, and I’m not sure if I’m ready.

I’m afraid of the girls. Not all of them, but enough of them. The ones with perfect hair and sharper smiles. The ones who seem to know exactly where they’re going in life, or at least pretend they do. But I’m also… curious. Maybe even hopeful. Because the boys are different. They’re older this year. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Even nineteen. And it’s not that I’m chasing the idea of someone older, but there’s a certain magic in thinking that maybe, just maybe, one of them will look at me in a way that makes my heart race.

Sometimes I imagine my first date. Driving somewhere in an old car, windows down, my hair tangled in the wind. Music playing, something I’ve chosen so carefully it feels like it belongs to this moment forever. The road stretching ahead like a promise. I see us laughing over something small. I see the nervous way our hands might almost touch, and how I’ll try to focus on the song instead of my own heartbeat. Maybe there will be dance lessons. Maybe we’ll be terrible at them, but in the best possible way.

And in between all that, there’s me. Sitting in therapy once a week, learning how to not just do these things, but be in them. How to breathe. How to believe that I can be the kind of girl who has these moments and doesn’t run from them.

The rain keeps falling. The summer keeps ending. And I keep wondering who I’ll be when it’s over.

I'll update u, love, Lenna ❤

Spread My Wings

Something really exciting is happening soon! I’m starting at a dance school. It’s a proper school with all the usual classes like math, English, and science, but the part I care most about is the dance. They offer jazz, hip hop, and ballet, and I still can’t quite believe I get to spend part of every day learning and training in something I love this much. I’ve always danced, as my mom used to be a professional dancer. Now I’ll be learning real technique, structure, and how to shape all that raw feeling into something more.

Honestly, I’m nervous. Not just about the dancing, which I know will be intense, but about starting somewhere completely new. I’m hoping I find people there who get it, other girls my age who are just as passionate, and maybe even some friends who like the same music I do. It would be nice to have someone to stretch with, or talk about choreography with after class, or just hang out and share playlists. I know I’m there to grow as a dancer and student, but I’d really love to find a group of people I feel comfortable around too.

I keep thinking about what this is going to feel like once I’m in it, sore muscles, early mornings, maybe even days when I doubt myself, but also the music, the movement, the adrenaline of learning something new. I don’t know exactly who I’ll be a year from now, but I hope it’s someone stronger, more confident, more sure of who she is. And hopefully, not dancing alone anymore.

"All alone she was living in a world without an end or beginning. Baby girl was living life for the feeling, but I don't mind, I don't mind. And all the wrongs she committed, she was numb and she was so co-dependent. She was young and all she had was the city, but I don't mind, I don't mind", The Weeknd sings for me as I dance, "And I know that she's capable of anything, it's riveting. But when you wake up she's always gone, gone, gone...  In the night, she hears him calling. In the night, she's dancing to relieve the pain. She'll never walk away, I don't think you understand."

Well, I might walk away soon. Spread my wings like I will spread my arms on stage. Without a warning.

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Your hologram stumbled into my apartment. Hands in the hair of somebody in darkness named Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus, and I just watched it happen. As the decade would play us for fools, and you saw my bones out with somebody new, who seemed like he would've bullied you in school. And you just watched it happen. If you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say, 'I loved you the way that you were'. If you want to tear my world apart, just say you've always wondered.

You said some things that I can't unabsorb. You turned me into an idea of sorts. You needed me but you needed drugs more, and I couldn't watch it happen. I changed into goddesses, villains and fools. Changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules, all to outrun my desertion of you. And you just watched it. If you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say, 'I loved you the way that you were'. If you want to tear my world apart, just say you've always wondered.

If the glint in my eye traced the depths of your sigh down that passage in time, back to the moment I crashed into you, like so many wrecks do. Too impaired by my youth to know what to do. So if I sell my apartment and you have some kids with an internet starlet, will that make your memory fade from this scarlet maroon like it never happened? Could it be enough to just float in your orbit? Can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses? Cooler in theory but not if you force it to be, it just didn't happen. So if you want to break my cold, cold heart, say you loved me. And if you want to tear my world apart, say you'll always wonder. Cause I wonder... Will I always, will I always wonder?