Porcelain

Why am I here? Thats what Eleanor wondered as she entered mister Daltone’s apartment building. The second he opened his front door, she would officially be a part of his life. Bigger than anyone else had ever been. Eleanor would have what she had wanted for so long. 

It was an old building, the kind that was built right after the Second World War in brick and stone. Her hand traced the black-painted metal guardrail, and she breathed in a mixture of distant dust, cold and soap. Walking up the stairs, Eleanor wondered what her mom must think of her latest choices. What Lenna would think of him and her, how she would have closed her eyes and exhaled a long breath through her nose. Then, she would go on to tell Eleanor how this is so, so wrong. How she can find happiness elsewhere. How easy it must be for Eleanor to fall in love with someone, anyone else. 

But Lenna was not here. 

Eleanor was fifteen now and could make her own decisions. Honestly, she had been on her own for as long as she could remember! Softly, she smiled to herself as she finally reached his front door, and her pink painted fingertip rang the doorbell. Eleanor heard footsteps come closer from the inside before the lock clicked open. 

Their eyes met, and the very next second, she was safely in his arms again. 

Mr. Daltone had lived in grayscale, interrupted by red stripes and blue clouds for the last two years before he came into her life. Before she was freed from the place she called home, and from the eternal bond between her and schoolwork. Eleanor lived now, delicately twined between his arms and body. He held her like she was more fragile than glass or porcelain.  

She was alive when they stood on the balcony later, and she lit a cigarette for the first time in my life. Oh, how she stared at the full moon, not yet feeling like a beloved ruin. He kissed her on the cheek when she started to see stars from the moon's reflection in her eyes. Because she just felt beloved. 

“Eleanor...” He spoke her name, his voice deeper than his blue eyes. She felt herself falling into them as he continued, “How can you be so sweet, yet still be in my arms?” 

Why am I here? Thats what Eleanor wondered as she left mister Daltone’s apartment building.

Moonlight

She was an electric white, noonshadow moon casting cold light like water over the flat earth of my face - don’t look into the sun, they say, but the moon - the moon - I stared until I was nothing but a bleached bone monument beneath her, human ruins of a madman’s love.

Solitude

Never ask me about May. I meant to write, but it was so hard. Anyway, it's summer now. Time has passed by so quickly that I almost don't know what to do with myself. The semester is finished soon, and I am off to 10th grade in the blink of an eye. I had many exams in May and had a lot to do. But still I sit here now. I read through my old posts from January and February, and had to smile to myself. I'm an ever-changing girl. I really am.

I find myself more on the edge than before. I am older. I have crushes I must never speak of. I don't listen to Taylor Swift much anymore, I only listen to The Weeknd and Lana Del Rey's unreleased tracks. I am now posting on my mother's old MacBook Air from 2013, since I inherited it from her. Who wants a Chromebook when you can have this? Anyway, I am writing more now as well. My newest work is called Estella. I love it. Because no matter how well known I am in my city, for my last name and now me in general, I stay alone. And I have chosen to actually try to accept it.

People will give me compliments. People will spread lies and confess their crushes. But at this point, it is like I have built up a wall. And this summer when I am at my grandparents farm again, I will let it all go. In our constant pursuit of productivity and achievement, we've forgotten the power of solitude. It's a delicate balance, this dance with ourselves, where we learn to listen to the whispers of our own hearts. Solitude isn't about being alone, but about being with oneself in a way that nurtures the soul. It's in these precious moments that we rediscover our truest selves, stripped of the external noise and the expectations of others.

Imagine a day where you let go of your devices, the digital tethers that keep you bound to the world's demands. Picture yourself in a serene meadow, the sun's golden rays warming your skin, a gentle breeze whispering through the leaves. The only sounds are the melodies of nature, the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds. Here, in this sanctuary of silence, you find clarity. Your thoughts, once a tangled mess, begin to unravel, revealing the simplicity of what truly matters. A day when I can daydream about him, no matter how old he is or wrong I might be. 

At the end of the day, I am Lenna.