eleonora

six years of wattpad. six years of thoughts put into words — well, not really. I haven’t posted any stories for just over two years now, but this last year I’ve written more than i ever had before. read more, laughed more, loved more. I’ve lived more, really. my life has been a swirling path through dark forests, altering with open fields filled with flowers. thunderstorms and sunshine so bright my eyes water. though I feel wiser and older (to the point where I would probably be perfectly happy moving out to a little cottage in the woods and live the rest of my days as the mean little witch you will tell your children about) I know I’m not finished. I hope I never am. not even when I’m on my deathbed, surrounded with all things I’ve created, love, art, happiness and sorrow, do I want to feel finished. I don’t ever want to stop dreaming, thinking maybe I could have done this and this and this and this... and though I may not yet know what awaits me tomorrow, wether it be the end of this beautiful field of flowers, the edge of yet another dark forest, I know that the journey is part of the adventure. and I have a hand to hold along the way, which is nice. fingers interlaced with mine in the way that has become second nature. the love from her touch that never ceases to overwhelm me. drown me, in the way it washes over me. my clever, beautiful, kindhearted girl who holds my heart so gently, yet so securely in her hands. she is the gold on the other side of the rainbow, and the rainbow, and the sun that creates it from the little water droplets still in the air, and the air that I’m breathing. she is the world. my world. my everything. and I am so very, very in love with her. 
          
          I know I am most likely writing these updates to none but myself, but I enjoy seeing them when I log on here every once in never. so this one is for you, future Eleonora. I love you, and I’m excited to see what you have created, you beautiful, capable thing.

hello people. long time no see, but guess what? I never stopped writing. 
          these past few weeks I’ve had a strange itch to go back to my wattpad account, because it’s here that most of my old pieces are stored. unbothered by time and changes that have happened around me. as I’m entering university this autumn, majoring in English, looking back at my old writing is... if anything, interesting. the words I used, the flow of my sentences (or lack thereof). it doesn’t speak to me the way it did all those years ago, but I love this little time capsule I created for myself. and oh god, 2015’s elli was an angsty little bitch. I think I might still be angsty, and I know I will never stop being cringey to my future self, but it’s all part of the growth. I’m not done growing yet, perhaps I never will be. but from then and until now I have grown a lot, and it’s wonderful that it shows. I might post some of my more recent work on here again, but if I don’t, just know that I’m off to new, exciting adventures, and that I wish you all the best on yours. have a good one

so much poetry in the form of diary entries in all my notebooks. words that were never intended for anyone but myself. my soul, my heart, my tears. these words shaped my future, my whole person and my life. the way I live, and the way I want to live, it’s all written in these words, written in the scars on my body. though I’ll never find them beautiful enough, I’m thankful. I’m thankful for what they’ve taught me. never good, still the bad and the ugly. but cleansing for the soul, nonetheless. I have so many things and people to thank for this, for what feels like a second chance at life. my beautiful, supporting girlfriend, god you all should just know how much I long to put a ring on that finger of hers. and Wattpad, because Wattpad has always been my creative outlet, my safeplace. my collection of thoughts, memories and ideas that never saw the light of day. my beautiful friends, both on here but in real life. it’s thanks to you that I get to live my dream, that I get to see my work published, that I get to stroke the actual cover of my book with my fingers. never stop creating, you beautiful things, because if you’re stubborn enough, you will get to see your dreams come true. you won’t, if you act on your bad days and give up. I believe in you. 

I have an awful lot of poetry collecting dust in my notebooks. I’m thinking of posting them in another poetry book? yes, they’re all angsty, but it’s poetry. some of them even have a bit of optimism, which is an entirely new subject for me to explore with. it’s like having childhood clay in my hands, I swear it’s so fun. anyways — to quote one of my favourite bands — are you ready for another bad poem? 

I WANT TO WRITEEEEEE

happy birthday to me

the fact that the flags for my nationality turned into question marks is probably a more accurate description. 

YO LISTEN UP LITTLE SHITHEADS. IM BRINGING THIS BACK TO LIFE OKOK I NEED TO WRITE. 

is it weird that I still think about all the stories I never wrote, all the characters I never developed, all the dialogues I only said in my brain, all the potential I had? is it weird that I still think about that? because I do, all the time 

beep beep beep