thelongingsofelle

[thelongingsofelle]

Good girls deserve something in all three holes

[thelongingsofelle]

dear diary, i hate love him

this is slightly inspired by some real events that i fully exaggerated the scale and gravity of in my mind. this is about a guy who i know from my uni who i kind of like but also don't know how to feel about him. basically, this is: how to be hurt by your own delusions: a guide. wc: 1.2k

dear diary,

i met a man. or rather, a boy. i say boy, as though he is the same age as i am, he behaves much like a thirteen year old who just started growing.

it is less of a first time meeting and more of a re-connection, for we were something like friends once upon a time. then, the friendship ran its course, and we no longer spoke.

he is still infuriating, for his ego is big and unrestrained. unfounded too, if i may say so myself.

he sees himself as God's gift to this world, if only for the fact that he is moderately handsome and has decent athletic skills.

i have the misfortune of frequently interacting with him, as my friends are his, and the meeting is inevitable.

he is leaving in three months and i could not be happier.

dear diary,

it has been a week since my last entry, and he has only gotten worse. he looks at me like he knows something about me that i don't know myself.

maybe he thinks about me. i hope they are not good thoughts, for i would rather cut off my hand than think anything nice about him.

i cannot deny that to some people, for some godforsaken reason, he is actually appealing. never to me though.

dear diary,

perhaps i was too quick to jump to conclusions. surprisingly, he is a decent person. still arrogant, but somewhat nice, i think. i'm not sure what my opinion of him is now.

i thought he was an egoistic, self-centered child, but i am now being faced with the possibility that i was wrong. i do not like it.

i often believe that i can read people very well, and only a few conversations are enough for me to understand the kind of person they are, but he is upending everything completely.

i do not know what to do. i might have to cut off my hand, now that i am actually thinking something that is somewhat nice about him.

dear diary,

we sat together in the library today. well, it was really a coincidence more than anything else. he is surprisingly smart. for some reason, i never considered that.

he is thoughtful too, and kind as well. he noticed i was sick and got medicines for me. he regularly checked up on me after that. it is unnerving.

i think i might be starting to like him.

dear diary,

i watched his match today. he is a vision on the field. it was like watching achilles in battle, like seeing monet paint in real life.

i think like him.

his stupid hair and that arrogant smirk.

his carelessness and those rough hands.

his dumb smile and the way he rolls up his sleeves.

i know i like him.

dear diary,

i did it. i took the first step. i asked him out.

he said no. i am still reeling from it for i did not expect that. certainly, from his behaviour and all the time he's spent with me, it was reasonable of me to believe that he feels the same.

maybe i was searching for something that did not exist. maybe, all i was doing, was so desperately wanting to be loved that i fooled myself into thinking that he loved me back.

maybe this was my fault.

i think i just experienced my first heartbreak.

dear diary,

it has been years, and i've only now unearthed you from the bottom of my suitcase. i just moved to a different country, ready to begin this new chapter of my life.

i moved on, or i thought i did. he plagued my thoughts for months after the rejection, for months after he left. soon enough, he faded from my mind and all that was left was anger.

anger at being led on, at him being too afraid to take that step, for i know he wanted to.

i thought i was over him. and yet, i was proven wrong once again.

i did not think i would run into him tens of thousands of miles away from our home country, but i did.

he looked surprised to see me. i was the same. i did not expect that i would be moving into the unit next to his.

he's definitely older, we both are. the years did him good. he look different, though. i suppose that's what happens when you haven't seen someone for almost ten years.

and yet, seeing him made me feel like i did when i was twenty.

dear diary,

forgive me, for it has been yet another five years since i spoke to you. these five years have been nothing short of an adventure.

we reconnected. small favours soon turned into lazy evenings in the living room, which soon became night drives to the nearby campsites where we would sit and talk for hours, free from the stress of our jobs or the real world.

eventually, we started going out together. it started small, a couple of dinners at the local restaurants, one or two movies at the cinema. before i knew it, we were spending all the time in the world with each other, and each other only.

we spoke about a lot, about college, about what happened. he told me about his fears and his doubts. he worried that we would not be forever, and that the depth of his feelings terrified him.

if i had known this when we were twenty, i would have told him that i too, was so unbelievably terrified of the amount of love i had for him, that it took every piece of courage i had to tell him how i felt.

i said as much to him, to which he cried. he cried over the hurt that he caused me, though i told him not to. i ended up crying with him, crying for the reassurance he needed but did not receive.

i realised that though many years had passed, my feelings for him never changed, and he felt the same as me.

now, fifteen years after my first heartbreak, ten years after i saw him again, and five years since we reconnected, i am sitting in my wedding dress, writing in this diary mere minutes before i am to walk down the aisle.

i can hear my parents talking, and the sniffle of my mother's cries of happiness. i can see my sister running around, making sure that all the last minute details are ironed out.

i cannot see him, as he must be with his friends. i hope he is as nervous as i am. i feel as though my stomach is in my mouth and my heart is going to burst out of my chest. i suppose these feelings are normal, though. after all, that is what happens when one loves someone so deeply and wholly.

i shall end this here, for i can hear my sister call for me. my father stands in the doorway, waiting to walk me down the aisle.

maybe the next time i write here, it will be to report the birth of our twins (i have not told him of the pregnancy yet). i do hope they look like him, for i love his eyes.

till the next time i talk to you, i hope that the happiness i feel now lasts forever, and that my love for him remains till my last breath.

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[thelongingsofelle]

her voice in the masses

warnings: mentions of blood, death. the 2024 elections only showed how much the masses do not care about a woman, a woman's choice, her life. this piece, though short, depicts the feelings that went through me as the results were announced. though i am not american, i felt the despair of millions of women who would soon no longer have autonomy over their own bodies. however, the fight has just started. women have been at the forefront of revolutions in the past, be it joan of arc or rani jhansi. we will rise from this too.

and the fathers say, shield her, stop her, restrict her.

and the mothers say, train her, teach her, instruct her.

and the husbands say, take her, use her, possess her.

and the masses say, wield her, control her, suppress her.

and in all this, she says, save me, protect me, love me.

she says, let me live, let me breathe, let me thrive.

she says, allow me joy, allow me growth, allow me peace.

she says, as the life slowly leaves her body like the blood pouring out of her, let me live for me.

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[thelongingsofelle]

you were my summer

this is an old piece from 2021 that i finally decided to post. it is a reflection on sonnet 18 by william shakespeare.

shall i compare thee to a summer's day? the words left my lips as i felt your arms pull me close and hold me gently.

thou art more lovely and temperate. i felt your fingers run over my arms, barely touching but telling me everything you feel.

rough winds do shake the darling buds of may, and summer's lease hath all too short a date. my voice wavered as i finished the line, distracted by the feeling of your lips on my skin. your kisses were like the wind, gentle yet powerful.

sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimm'd. the sunlight from the window caught your face, and it almost made me jealous. you were beautiful.

and every fair from fair sometimes declines, by chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd. time waits for no one, that much i knew. but in that moment, laying in your arms, time came to a still, and it was just you and me.

but thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fait thou ow'st. my eyes travelled over your features, taking in your beauty. your eyes, ever sparkling with joy. your lips, always full of love. the freckles scattered across your collarbone, the same ones that i loved to worship in the late hours of the night. i felt almost selfish, for i am the only one who you will allow to love you like this.

nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou grow'st. you were ethereal, untouchable. even death could have never hurt you.

so long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee. if i were an artist, i would have painted you a million times and more, so that you are never forgotten.

but as i pulled you closer to me, and felt your heart beating in unison with mine, i realised that i need not be an artist, or a poet. my body had learnt yours with ease, every contour and dip memorised. and as we lay together, bodies pressed against each other, i looked into your loving eyes, and i knew then that you were my everything. you were more beautiful than light itself.

you were my summer.

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[thelongingsofelle]

and the Lord says;

warnings: religious themes; love and sin

the Lord says, he has plans for his children.

if the Lord wills it, it will happen.

sinner. the priest says.

sinner. the congregation repeats.

sinner. the voice in my head chants. you are a sinner in the midst of the religious.

yet, what was i guilty of? i did not disrespect my parents, nor did i curse the Lord. and yet, a sinner is who i am.

but just then, my eyes catch yours. you, a few pews ahead, turned back to look at me. sinner. i see the sparkle in your eyes. sinner. i watch as you run your fingers through your hair. sinner. i look at the upward tilt of your lips as you smile at me. sinner.

the priest quotes the Gospel, talks about the sin of covetousness. sinner. my mind tells me, while my heart remains in your hands.

your back is turned, and i can no longer see your eyes. it is for the best, for if you could see mine, you would see the longing, the desire, the yearning.

the parts of my heart that you live in beat faster, the thoughts that you occupy start racing. my mind fills with dreams of you, with dreams of holding you and touching you.

perhaps this is the sin the scholars spoke about. the sin the priest protests.

the sin of love.

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