Chronically Elle

Category: life

things worth talking about :)

  • My Girl

    Revised Workshop Piece

    By Elle Noecker

    Growing up and moving on at the same time…

    Ellie

    They say your life flashes before your eyes the moment you knock upon death’s door. How beautiful it is to think that you get to relive your entire existence right before it comes to an end? I imagine my body shutting down for good while my mind thinks it all just begun. Machines beeping to the rhythm of my ever slowing heart rate in a hospital room perfumed with sterilizers and sadness.  

    But my mind will be elsewhere and I’ll believe it’s telling me the truth. We will be reunited. Lying below the Christmas tree while laughter rings like jingle bells and the only beeping I’ll hear is from the oven signaling warm cookies are ready to be eaten by the fire with a glass of milk and my soul girl at my side.  

    God, I pray she sees the same.  

    Tigerlilly

    Gentle hands reach down and enclose my tiny body. The hands are warm and soft. I too, am quite soft, covered in feather like fur– but this moment is my first time experiencing warmth.  

    Every day of my life so far has been the same. A cycle of struggling against my much larger siblings for food, feeling the briskly conditioned air bite at my ears and nose, and then curling up against metal bars as I fall asleep, tiny belly empty.  

    But now, my body is enclosed by human palms and I am suspended in the air. Though the tile floor lays seemingly miles below me and I should be fearful of falling, I have never felt safer. My wide eyes fall shut and my body begins to vibrate just enough for the safe hands to notice. Light fingers stroke my head. For a moment, I forget about hungry nights and metal cages. For a moment, I think I know peace. We start to move as the large human carries me away. I never look back.

    baby Wissy before adoption!

    Please take me home.

    Ellie

    Reality is an ugly thing. Its walls close in around me until my lungs are compressed so hard that I am unable to produce sound and my sobs fall silent. I just had to hang up the phone on mom. My final goodbye being through a cellphone screen was never how this was supposed to go. I was supposed to be there at her side. And it wouldn’t be any time soon, it would be years from now when I’d have graduated college and her fur would be the color of the snow that covered the ground the day we met.

    But mom and dad just dropped me off last week and her coat is still vibrant. I know I had to leave but it’s too soon for her to do the same.  

    My chest aches and my eyes are flooded. I whisper into the air the only words that make any sort of sense right now:

    “I love you, I love you, I love you.”  

    Tigerlilly

    I hear the phrase repeated three times as a new set of hands reaches down to lift me. I’ve been in a box for a little while now, it’s dark. But I have been curled up on a warm blanket drifting in and out of sleep. I don’t know where I am. But I know this isn’t the shelter. Wherever I am, it no longer smells of ammonia, litter, and the kibble I never got to eat. Instead the air is permeated in pine, peppermint, and particularly enticing paper. And as this small human picks me up, I recognize the scent of the blanket on her hands. I put the pieces together. The blanket in my box belongs to this child, a young girl in pink pajamas who I estimate to be five years of age. Human years are unfamiliar to me, but I know this child. I am not sure how, I have never seen her before. But her tender embrace assures me that we are family. I jolt as the girl clutches me so tight to her chest that I am no longer comfortable in her narrow boney arms. But I don’t mind. When she finally sets me down on the carpet I eagerly explore my new home.  

    I have food with no competition for the first time ever, a clean litter box, piles of toys but I’d rather play with the shredded paper scattered all over the living room floor. In the corner rests a plush pink bed.  

    After the first day of the rest of my life comes to a close, the little girl called Ellie and I fall asleep in the living room under the massive pine tree. I press my small body against hers as my soft purrs coax us into deep dreams, though both of ours just came true. There is a feeling in my heart that fills my skinny abdomen. It is warm and calm. I haven’t been to many places, but this feeling tells me there is nowhere I would rather be.  

    Ellie  

    I never claimed to be a good actor. I don’t hide my emotions well. But I can’t have anyone read my face because I know they’ll ask what’s wrong, and I’ll be left with two options: cry or lie. And when I choose the latter, I’ll still end up bawling and the person who checked on me will feel obligated to try to comfort me, and though I’ll appreciate their good intentions, I know we will both be wishing they never asked in the first place. It’ll be an awkward mess. And the other part is– they’ll never get it. No one will understand the profound loss I have just been faced with. The way a piece of me has just been ripped from my heart by the violent claws of death. I’ll bleed out until I’m empty and then some. Nothing can repair this wound. Not a “so sorry” or a “here for you.” Not a phone call or distraction. And definitely not a hug from my new roommate I barely know.  

    Hot tears slide down my cheeks and dramatically splat onto the paper below me. It’s the second week of class and supposed to be the start of the best years of my life. And those best years are nowhere in sight at the moment. And they won’t be ever. Because how can I live my best years without her? Who even am I without her?  

    Tigerlilly

    I have learned that Christmas comes once every year. I am a Christmas kitty. Ellie calls me a “Christmas miracle.” I was too young to remember exactly how I got home, but according to Ellie I was brought down the chimney by a large man in a red suit named Santa. Though I can’t recall this day, I know that Santa is my hero because he brought me to my family. Christmas is my favorite time of year. But I have also come to love birthdays. Birthdays come more often, five times a year to be exact– one for each member of my family. Birthdays are second best to Christmas because they also involve wrapping paper. And I love wrapping paper. When I was a kitten, my favorite game was when Ellie would crumple up a small piece like a ball and throw it for me to chase down the hallway. My paws would slide on the shiny floors as I would bat the paper ball around and show it who’s boss. But now, I just like to lay on it. I’d choose wrapping paper over my bed any day.  

    Ellie

    My English homework for the day is to write a poem using nature as symbolism. A particular flower comes to mind. She comes to mind. It’s two weeks now and I still can’t focus on any task at hand. How do people do this? How do people let go?  

    (tiger lilys near my house)

    Everyone tells me she’s in a better place and I know. I know. I know. But it’s not enough to ease the ache. I write my poem and send it to mom. It makes her cry. If anyone understands, it’s her. She copes by keeping it in. Being strong for me. But I know she needs her too. And I’m not home. So the house is twice as empty.  

    Mom and her best friend

    Tigerlilly

    Ellie tries to get me to play. She waves a small mouse toy by the tail, swaying it in front of my eyes like a clock. When I don’t budge, she finds a piece of ribbon on the floor from her birthday last week and slowly drags it across my paw as if I’ll decide to swipe at it. But why would I move my body when I can just stay here on the old red couch? I spent what energy I had left today making my way up the steps Mom put out for me when I stopped being able to jump up on my own. She tries countless methods but I won’t give in. Not even the scent of catnip Ellie waves in front of my nose is enough to get me off the cushion. Or the leftover wrapping paper ball that she tosses up and down.  

    When I still won’t stir, she looks disappointed but unsurprised. With a sigh, she climbs up beside me on the couch and we both start to doze off from the vibrations of my relentless purr. She just turned fifteen. And though I don’t really know what that means, I do know her hands that gently stroke my head are much bigger now than they were when she first picked me up all that time ago.  

    This is my idea of a good time. No catnip could ever beat a cat-nap on the couch with my girl. I curl up on the wrapping paper she left out just for me.  

    I think sometimes Ellie worries about me because I just don’t like to move. But I don’t want her to worry. I have food, paper to lay on, and a family that loves me. I couldn’t be happier.  

    Ellie  

    I’m in bed, wide awake at hours I don’t even want to know, tossing and turning until I decide sleep isn’t in the picture and I flip my lamp light on. My custom pillow with her photo on it resting beneath my head is still damp from the tears I shed over the past two hours. I sit up and position myself to lean against it. She still finds a way to be my support system, even in pillow form. The thought almost makes me smile.

    I grab my phone off my bedside table. When I can’t escape my own head, music can take me away. Popping in my earbuds, I open Spotify and shuffle my “Calm” playlist to try and ease the queasy feeling in my gut that hasn’t left since she did. But when the first song to start playing is “chemtrails” by Lizzy McAlpine I knew I had made a grave mistake. My calming playlist is coincidently composed of mostly sad songs. Anything with a slow melody and acoustic production. And of the course the first song to make its way to my ears is a story about the loss of a family member and the struggle to continue on the path of life without them. I’ve read in the past that Mcalpine wrote the song about her dad passing away. The person in her life who taught her to ride a bike, read her bedtime stories and held her close when she cried.  

    And here I am, choking on my own sobs over a cat.  

    Tigerlilly

    Ellie just graduated high school. I can tell because she prances through the front door in a beautiful white dress, a red rose in her hand. The house is decorated with photos of her and I watch through the window as people start filing in the backyard for a large celebratory dinner on the patio. Apparently there’s a cake, because mom came inside to find me with frosting on her finger tip. I perk up from my nap to lick her hand clean. Giggling at the sensation of my scratchy tongue (it gets them everytime) she says something softly about how bigger kitties like me really shouldn’t be eating cake frosting, but “life is short.” And I’m starting to think she might be right.  

    Later that evening, mom starts bringing inside leftover food and decorations as people start to leave our house. She carries in a large cardboard poster and leans it against the living room wall. Despite the ache in my joints that creak when I walk, my curiosity takes over as I manage to stand up and cross the room to get a closer examination. I find that the piece of cardboard is completely covered in photos of Ellie throughout her life. A photo of her as a baby from a time when I wasn’t around yet. A recent photo of her with her friends in fancy flowing dresses. An older photo where she smiles ear to ear, holding a fistful of swimming medals she won. Eventually, my eyes land on a particular photo that takes me back to a time where my memory is almost as fuzzy as the little runt in the picture. A miniature version of Ellie stands in front of a Christmas tree in her pink pajamas, cradling a miniature version of me. I start to smell the pine, peppermint, and that particularly enticing paper. My vague but fond memories begin to form in my mind like a dream. Pressing my large body against the cardboard to be as close to these moments in time as possible, I curl up and drift off.  

    (This specific photo is from my older brother’s graduation. She did this for both of us!)

    ~~~

    Through my years, I have learned the signs when my family is about to leave for a trip. They always come back, but I can tell this trip is going to be longer than usual. I know this because packing usually takes about a day. But throughout the past three weeks, bins have continued to pile up containing only things that belong to Ellie. I’m not sure what it implies, but I can feel her excited energy radiating every time she talks to mom about her new roommates and classes and future. But I know she gets sad too. Because every time she comes to find me on the couch, she holds me a little tighter than the time before. In the past I might have growled expressing my discomfort. But I can tell she needs me close, and I don’t resist because I need her just the same.  

    Ellie  

    I’m not one for dramatic Instagram posts. I’m never looking for any sort of attention or pity. That’s the last thing I want right now. But I need people to know. My childhood friends. My extended family. My former classmates. The first thing all of them ever knew about me was that I have an overweight cat nicknamed “Wiss” who is my entire world and the center of my existence. Wiss is an icon to anyone who knows me and it would be disrespectful not to give her the memorial she deserves. I’ve spent the past two hours in bed curled up underneath my custom blanket with photos of her (yes, I have a blanket and a pillow) scrolling through hundreds of photos of my girl. I make a collection of the ones that best capture her personality. Judgmental. Funny. Loving. Goofy. Smart. Not-so-smart. And everything in between that made her who she was. I manage to narrow it down to twenty (the max amount possible by Instagram) and upload them with a caption:  

    “My Wissy,

    The day you arrived as a tiny, wide eyed, Christmas miracle the idea of losing you absolutely terrified me, and I never imagined that day would come so soon. To the funniest, most family loving, big in heart and size, best kitty in the whole world— thank you for being my best friend, my comfort, my rock. Thank you for making us laugh every day and being the center of our family. The biggest blessing of my childhood. Anyone who’s met you knows how special you truly are. And though our house will never be the same without you, I feel so relieved knowing that you are at peace and comfort. I love and miss you forever and ever, Chunk. You are an absolute legend.

    Tigerlilly “Wiss”:10/4/11-8/19/24 🕊️🌈💕”

    Tigerlilly

    I haven’t been feeling well and mom notices. I know it hurts her that I haven’t been eating. I know her heart sinks every time I refuse the water she holds in a bowl under my white chin.  

    I sense that Ellie leaves tomorrow. She spends most of her day by my side. I haven’t gotten up since last night and as evening nears I can tell she senses I’m not well. But my girl has always been an optimist. Mom says she’ll take me to the vet as soon as she’s back from moving Ellie into college. Whether it’s frosting I shouldn’t have or a vet visit, mom always knows as well as I do, exactly what I need.  

    It’s morning now but still so early that only dim moonlight shows through the curtains. Ellie hauls a final suitcase down the stairs, tosses it to the side and lays down on the floor in front of me. Keeping my head down, I slowly open my eyes as water wells in hers.  

    Wrapping her arms around my body she leans in close and says “don’t worry. I’ll see you in three months when I come to visit.” For the first time in my life, I’m glad I can’t speak because I don’t have the courage to tell her that won’t be true. It’s her time to grow up and move on, so I know it shall be mine.

    Kissing my velvet forehead one last time, she whispers the words “I love you, I love you, I love you.”  

    last picture before leaving for school

    Ellie (2 years later)

    The first time I came home from college to visit for Thanksgiving was a little jarring. As I hauled my luggage up to the front steps, I noticed a new doormat that certainly was not there when I left three months ago. My feet stepped over the words “must love dogs” and I let out a laugh, joking with my mom that our family pulled a full one-eighty from the old welcome sign that read “Be careful: My cat is judging you.”

    For the past twelve years of my life, my instinct when I walked through the front door was to beeline for Wiss, who would be lying next to the graduation party photo collage with paws placed on the pictures. But this time, I am greeted by a clumsy little red merle Australian Shepherd puppy who joined the family in October, about one month after we said “goodbye” to Wiss. I had a feeling mom wouldn’t last very long without a furry companion.  

    I squat down to meet the new member of the family who licks my cheek with a tongue that certainly belongs to a dog. My family named him “Red,” and my love for him was immediately undeniable. But it didn’t compensate for the emptiness in my heart.

    ~~

    That first Christmas with Red was harder to grapple with than I’d like to admit. It wasn’t the puppy himself, but the lack of my girl. Wiss had defined Christmas for me since I was five-years old. She was the reason I believed in miracles.  

    I watched the chaotic morning unfold in our living room while a wild Red shredded apart pieces of wrapping paper (“Baby shark” quickly became his nickname) while mom struggled to hold on to his leash. Humorous as it was, there were a few moments where I had to look away to fight the stinging in my throat and tears in my eyes. Memories flooded into my mind from over a decade of calm Christmases with a cat who saw wrapping paper as the perfect surface for a nap, purring under the tree. This just wasn’t the same.  

    ~~~

    I have now finished my second year of college and sit in my childhood bedroom where my custom Wiss pillow watches from my bed as I write her story. Her wide-eyes that never lost their kitten-like youth remind me that she never really left. Her ashes sit in a container on the shelf in the living room, next to her painted portrait.

      I don’t think I will ever know what to do without her. But I do know that I experienced a type of love that is immeasurable and irreplaceable. And though I can’t speak for her, I think my girl would agree.

    ❤

    The Wiss Gallery:

    (After two years, I finally got my tattoo in honor of “Wiss.” The flower is a tiger lily, of course :). Now she’s literally by my side forever!)

  • My Star

    My Star

    a love letter to Gracie Abrams ❤

    You’re 15 and in your bedroom, scrolling through Instagram in an effort to distract yourself from the digital silence. The lack of text messages. Calls. Or any sort of contact from the people who want to believe are your close friends. But the phone never rings. The screen doesn’t light up with a notification. The weekend just began and you try not to feel ungrateful for the friendships in your life. You see a photo or two of your so-called ‘friend group’ (you always hated that term because it sounds exclusive and cliquey) without you and try to justify how they’ve neglected you: you’re always busy with swim practice anyway; maybe it was an accident; they wouldn’t purposefully exclude you…

    You continue to scroll on your phone, ignoring the whispers of loneliness in your ear. A video of a girl with long brunette hair running towards a camera in front of a rustic brown barn catches your attention. A relatively niche artist you recently started following is promoting her brand new song released earlier the same day. Something about the strum of the guitar pulls on your heart like a magnetic force and you can’t open Spotify fast enough. You click the play button. And as the next 4 minutes and 9 seconds go by, the entire trajectory of your life is spun around. Every ounce of bitter loneliness you’ve tasted is washed away and replaced by  validation from someone whom you’ve never met but somehow knows you better than you know yourself. You’re not alone. You never were. 

    Sophomore Year of High School-Winter: 

    I am sitting in the quaint and cozy library of Buffalo Seminary High School, desperately searching my brain for the will power to complete my French homework. Listening to Spotify’s recommended songs, I pick up my phone as an unfamiliar beat starts playing followed by an unfamiliar voice. I have been skipping songs I don’t know– I love hearing new music but today I am seeking the comfort of familiarity. Before my thumb lands on the ‘skip’ button I pause at the name of the artist– Gracie Abrams. I have vaguely heard of her before through a friend who is constantly posting about Gracie on her Instagram story (shoutout Grace, if anyone is an OG Gracie fan it’s you), but hadn’t thought to check out her music on my own. I give the song a listen because I am already captivated by her unique vocal and enticing melodies. The song is accompanied by a clip of Gracie dropping what appears to be a birthday cake on a doorstep– but as the song passes, that’s all I really remember. I can’t remember the title, but I do thoroughly enjoy this new song and am excited to share with my classmate that I listened to Gracie Abrams for the first time.

    A couple weeks pass and after scouring Spotify I finally find the “cake” song as I nicknamed it in my head. The title is “Mess It Up” and I immediately add it to my playlists. 

    As the month passes, I add a couple more Gracie Abrams songs like “21” and “Feels Like” to my daily streaming cycle. I made a mental note to stream more of her discography eventually, but little did I know, in just a matter of days Gracie Abrams would impact my life forever.

    April 8, 2022

    After school in my bedroom, I find myself scrolling through Instagram desperately trying to mute the uncontrollable voices in my head. The ones that are going over my every move of the week pin pointing each time I made a mistake, said the ‘wrong’ thing, spoke too softly, shouldn’t have spoke at all, should’ve spoken up, could’ve been a better friend, could’ve have been more proactive, and wondering why I constantly feel like a floating ghost in a world of visible people. I came across photos of my “friends” together without me and wondered where I went wrong and why I always felt so distant from my peers. Being a high-level athlete, I know I probably would not have been available anyway, but an invite still would’ve been appreciated. But these thoughts and critiques are nothing new. I’ve just never had a way to articulate or explain them. I always felt invalid or that somehow it was my fault. These feelings have overtaken my internal monologue since the day I formed my first thought and I’ve just learned to live with it. 

    As I lay there on my bed, my chin resting on one palm while the other holds my phone, I swipe my thumb across the screen yet again. But never did I guess that this single scroll of a screen would change my life. 

    The next video I come upon is an Instagram Reel posted by Gracie Abrams whom I just recently started following. I glance at the caption which reads “somehow Block me Out comes out tonight.” I quickly turn up the volume as I watch and listen to the clip of Gracie running towards the camera, flipping around her long brunette hair (before she chopped it to her now iconic bob in late 2023) in front of producer Aaron Dessner’s famous Long Pond Studios. I am immediately so pulled to the essence of this clip in a way I have never felt before. The video is just a few short seconds of the introduction to the song which is mostly composed of merely guitar chords that somehow sound exactly like my deepest most personal thoughts if those thoughts transformed into music. Majestic but secluded, prominent but subtle. My heart starts to knock on the doors of my chest as I notice the date of the post says April 7, meaning the song has already been released. Rushing to Spotify I type “Block me Out” in the search bar and can’t press play any faster. I hear the now familiar chords of the intro and close my eyes, knowing that this song would be special– having no idea of the extent. 

    For the next four minutes and nine seconds I feel as though a spell has been cast over me. Opening my eyes, I realize they are filled with tears (which is happening to me now as I write this, looking back). Every word of the song is identical to everything I never had the words to say. To make sure I heard properly, I press play once again. This time by the end, my jaw is on the floor and my palm covering my open mouth. I am frozen in shock. Paralyzed by validation. As if answering my prayers, this song gave me words to the feelings I could never quite describe. In a sense, I feel as if my soul is levitating. The weight of isolation I have carried on my shoulders is lifted because someone else knows exactly how I feel. To be completely honest, I am also partly suspicious that Miss Abrams somehow broke into my room, stole my personal journal, and wrote a song based off of what was inside. In my entire 15 years of life, I have never felt less alone; never felt more visible; and never felt more known. An adolescence of feeling misunderstood in my surroundings and lost among my peers is put to an immediate halt by a 22-year old girl I’ve never met and her guitar of enchantment. Without a doubt I have just discovered my new favorite song…of all time…forever…as long as I live. 

    The Memory I Swear Was a Dream

    It is safe to say that immediately after hearing “Block me Out” for the first time, I shortly had the entirety of Gracie’s discography memorized (including unreleased tracks), quickly finding that I heard a piece of my own echo in every one of her songs. At the time, she had only released two EP’s, “minor” and “This is what it feels like”, but no studio albums. Though every single song off of her first two projects is immensely important to me, Gracie finally dropped her first full studio album. “Good Riddance” was released on February 24th, 2023. At the time, I was paranoid about Gracie becoming mainstream with her relatively big single “I know it won’t work.” Though I wanted my favorite artist to be successful, Gracie Abrams becoming a household name in the pop industry felt like losing the intimacy that makes her music so special. The idea of other people knowing the lyrics to her songs was like having my diary exposed to the world. After “Good Riddance,” she gained a larger fanbase but remained relatively underground as far as indie-pop artists go. Just when I didn’t think her music could cut any deeper, Gracie dropped a deluxe version of “Good Riddance” in June of 2023. Not only did she include “Block me Out” on this version of the album, but she added 3 new songs including “Unsteady” which immediately stole the spot as my second favorite song of all time.

    Gracie performing “Block Me Out” at The Era’s Tour

    About a month prior to the release of “Good Riddance (Deluxe)” my wildest dream came true. As if stars aligned perfectly, I not only snagged last minute tickets to Taylor Swift’s “The Eras Tour,” but it was the only show that weekend with Gracie as an opener (and Phoebe Bridgers which is unreal in itself). Not only did I see Gracie live, but she performed the song that changed everything for me. I shed buckets full of tears at the reality of seeing Gracie in person and hearing her live voice sing songs I swear she wrote just for me.

    With 8 million monthly listeners on Spotify and a guitar, Gracie stepped on stage in Gillette Stadium and I automatically broke into sobs for the next 20 minutes while she performed four songs. When that all-too familiar intro to “Block Me Out” started to play, I started quite literally choking on my own tears (which can be heard on my shaky video when I cry out “I can’t breathe.”)– so much so that people turned their heads in concern wondering how I could be so emotional over the opener before Taylor even stepped on stage. 

    Watching Gracie’s Career Takeoff

    You probably know her as the “‘That’s So True’ girl,” or Taylor Swift’s apprentice with the bob that gets shorter by the day, but I will always know her as the girl that changed the game of life for me; my mentor; my best friend who doesn’t know I exist (if you can’t tell I am very parasocial about her). After her release of her sophomore album “The Secret of Us” in June 2024, Gracie took the music industry by storm. With the song “us.” featuring Taylor Swift, the Tiktok hit “I Love You, I’m Sorry,” and of course, the global hit “That’s So True” bringing her to 37million monthly Spotify listeners, my biggest fear came true– Gracie Abrams became one of the biggest breakout names in music. But I couldn’t be prouder of the artist who deserves it all. 

    To represent the way Gracie has permanently impacted my life, almost a year ago I got my first tattoo of her lopsided star logo which has been applied to Gracie’s merchandise since the start of her career (she also has a similar tattoo of her own!). To me, this tattoo was more than just an aesthetic decision or using my independence as an 18-year old. The little star on my right forearm is a  way to remain eternally connected to the artist that serves as a lifeline for me (and I am already plotting to get my second Gracie-related tattoo…). Though I am not sure I will ever be completely free from how “every voice in my head is trying its best to haunt me” as Gracie sings in “Block Me Out,” I know I will always have music to lean on when “I look around to find it desolate” (Abrams, “Block Me Out”). This song still applies to my life and hits home just as hard as it did the first day I heard it four years ago. I use it like oxygen to breathe, having it’s specific Spotify code hanging on the wall in my dorm room as a reminder that when I feel no one hears me, Gracie Madigan Abrams always will. 

    Every day I pray I will get the chance to meet Gracie. It would mean the world to thank her for her courage to be vulnerable, talking about the uncomfortable topics that ultimately unlock souls from the cage of feeling alone. I truly could write an essay just as long as this one about each of her songs individually. Though “Block Me Out” was the turning point that started what would become a lifelong obsession, she does not have a single track that isn’t deeply personal to me in some capacity– and I know many fans reading this would say “that’s so true!” (pun intended).

    In utmost seriousness I do not know how I would function in a world without Gracie and her music. Listening to her voice has become my daily dose of comfort, as vital for my health as any prescription on my shelf. To sum it up, I have probably shed more tears (of every emotion) from the existence of Gracie Abrams more than anything else combined in my life–but as a true Gracie fan, “ after all of this time I should be a pretty crier” (Abrams, “Block Me Out”).

    Gracie during “21”- getting to scream the lyric “sorry!” back at her is a moment I think about every day.

  • Pet Loss Playlist & Poem

    When I wrote this post, I did not necessarily have the intention of publishing it, but then I found out that September is pet memorial month so I took it as a sign to share. For context, I lost my beloved cat about a year ago, and not a day has gone by where I don’t feel as if a piece of my heart is missing. I find myself writing about her constantly as if somehow I can bring her back to life. This post is very personal to me but I am sharing in hopes that it can provide comfort and validation to anyone who might relate.

    Playlist:

    Whether it’s one lyric or the whole song, each of these songs (and many more but these ones come to mind first) help me feel a little closer to her: 

    • Eternal June, Emma Foley
    • Big Star, Lorde
    • Me & My Dog, boygenius 
    • chemtrails, Lizzy McAlpine
    • A thousand years, Christina Perrie 
    • At the Beach, In Every Life, Gigi Perez
    • marjorie, Taylor Swift
    • waiting, Cassidy Forras

    Poem: The Loss/Love that Never Leaves

    The knife is stuck in my chest.

    It doesn’t lie

     it doesn’t leave

    and it doesn’t let me 

    let go.

    But I wouldn’t if I could.

    The knife is my souvenir, 

    A reminder you were here, 

     you existed,

    and we breathed the same air. 

    The knife punctures my heart;

    not to kill  

     but to immortalize 

    my love,

    like a locket I’ll never lose. 

     The place, we call “home”

     will never truly be home again

     because when I show up 

     you’re not behind the door

    anymore.

    You’re not behind the door,

    But you live behind my eyelids when I sleep,

    Behind the cover of my journal,

    within every creature I meet. 

    Every ray of sun 

    Every rainbow after rain

    And every flower that blooms by the street. 

    The knife impales 

    But I carry it with me

    And eternal pride, I bleed.

    The pain a privilege 

    Proving that you lived,

    And you lived

     Your life 

    beside me. 

    Tigerlilly “Wiss” (my angel girl)

  • The Scariest Thing I’ve Ever Done and How it Changed my Life

    May 2024

    What am I doing here? Who do I think I am? Definitely not someone equipped for this, that’s for sure. Omg I might just collapse. I wish I could evaporate into the air on command- *piano chords fill the room*- okay okay just do it.

    Suddenly I am back on the couch, my head supported by a pillow absorbing my tears full of overwhelming validation, each one that falls representing a year of my life spent hiding, finally released from the cage of my mind. The memory sets me free.  

    April 2022, Sophomore year:

    Mom and I are in the living room. Remote in hand, mom flips through streaming services as we try to find a movie to occupy our evening in the middle of spring break. 

    “Hey, I’ve wanted to see this one since it came out,” I start to suggest a movie based off of a broadway musical I have never attended but always been curious about. For a while now, I have been a big fan of the song “Waving Through A Window,” performed by Broadway icon Ben Platt, which is from this very musical and made me intrigued by the production in the first place. 

    “‘Dear Evan Hansen? Looks good. Let’s watch it,” mom replies. 

    We click on the movie and I absolutely adore the whole thing. Emotional rollercoaster. Beautiful and uncomfortable and fascinating and real. But I am left so moved by one song in particular. One moment in the film that changed the trajectory of my  life if I am being honest. The scene when actress Amandla Stenberg enchantingly sings the anthem that will permanently tattoo my heart: “The Anonymous Ones.”

    The next two years:

    Home alone? I’m singing it. 

    In the car? Belting it at the top of my lungs. 

    In my room at night listening to music blasting through my ear buds even though I already said “goodnight” to my family hours ago? I close my eyes and lip sync along as I imagine myself performing the lyrics in front of an audience because all I have ever wanted to do is perform, and if I ever, somehow, maybe in another life got the chance to sing for a crowd, without a question it would be this song. But it wasn’t a matter of not having a chance. It was a matter of believing I could do it. 

    I am forever grateful for my high school experience. The environment cultivated at Buffalo Seminary is one that encourages students to search within themselves for how they want to make an impact on the world and what they want to pursue in this life we are given. For me, one of the top things on my list was music. Sure, I played violin from the time I was six years old, and I always loved it and was pretty good too! But my deepest darkest most forbidden secret from EVERYONE except my Voice Memos app is that I wanted to sing.

    My school had a Glee Club. Freshman year I joined it and stayed with the group all four years. It was fun and gave me an opportunity to sing in school. Great! But with Glee Club, it was easy to blend in. Most of the time I would sing along, but whenever I felt insecure about my voice or if the note felt out of my range, I could just mouth my way through and no one would notice. It was a safe place. I was able to sing without the pressure of all ears on me (ha, get it?). 

    One afternoon my friends were messing around with the piano located in the chapel at the center of the school, open for students to play whenever their hearts desired (good times). They asked me to join them. “Um, of course!” And I excitedly sat on the bench beside them. We ended up singing through some songs we all liked and my friend who was playing the keys paused and said, “Elle, we sound really good together. Let’s perform this at Morning Meeting!” My heart rate surged. I could hear my pulse reverberating through my body. Spoiler alert, I ended up agreeing as long as we sang the whole song in unison (the song was “ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine but that’s beside the point). She had a phenomenal voice and no way was about to sing solo in front of the entire school. 

    We were a hit and ended up performing three songs together throughout our junior and senior years. So now I had a couple performances under my belt. But they were duets. Not solos. I could never do that (*sigh* if only I knew…). 

    our first Morning Meeting performance

    Senior year I crossed my fingers and prayed I would be able to take the one senior elective I had desperately wanted to take since freshman year: Voice Class. By some miracle, my schedule allowed me to take the course! 

    Voice Class would consist of quite literally one-on-one vocal lessons with our school music teacher who had a passion for teaching students to use their voices (literally and metaphorically). She asked me to pick out a couple songs that I would want to work on. Of course, I immediately wrote down “The Anonymous Ones” from the “Dear Evan Hansen” film. During one of my first lessons she had me sing it cold. “Just go for it!” she instructed. So I did. After I finished my first run through she asked me why I chose that song in particular: “Because it really changed my life,” I explained. “I cried the first time I heard it because I related to it which meant a lot to me. I just love it.” 

    Then she said the craziest sentence I ever could have fathomed: “Would you want to perform it at our upcoming spring concert?” 

    Do I want to? This is my DREAM. Can I? Um…

    Sure, I had performed a couple times with my friend and I survived. But alone? That felt out of the question. 

    Before I could put too much thought into my answer I opened my mouth and started speaking whatever words came out. “Uh yes. Wow. I don’t know. Um. Do you think I’m good enough?”

     “Elle, you have a beautiful voice, use it.” 

    May 2024: 

    What am I doing here? Who do I think I am? Definitely not someone equipped for this, that’s for sure. Omg I might just collapse. I wish I could evaporate into the air on command- *piano chords fill the room*- okay okay just do it. 

    And I start to sing:

    “Ever look at all the people who seem to know exactly how to be?”

    My hands are drenched in my own sweat. The breeze from the open window is blowing my hair into my face (which actually turned out to be a cool effect!). The microphone stand is a little too short and the piano a little too fast. I can’t look up at the balcony where my family sits or I’ll get distracted. I keep my eyes straight ahead and as the song moves forward I allow myself to loosen up. Remember why you chose this song. And more importantly, remember the reason this song meant so much to you when you first heard it… 

    Though I am still nervous, I am no  longer trembling in fear. In fact, I am actually relieved not to have a Glee Club of students to hide my voice behind. Everyone is watching. Everyone is listening. But I can use this moment to make my own impact, I decide. Now, I don’t just sing the words, but I sing every moment of my life that has manifested into the very one I am in now: 

    “You think, they don’t need piles of prescriptions to function naturally…”

    “So they keep on keeping secrets that they think they have to hide…”

    “She’s built a wall with her achievements 

    To keep out the question 

    ‘Without it, is she worth anything at all?’”

    “There are those anonymous ones

    Stuck inside the perfect frame they’re faking

    All of us anonymous ones

    Who pick themselves apart ’til they start breaking…”

    “The parts we can’t tell, we carry them well,

    But that doesn’t mean they’re not heavy…”

    “Maybe we, we don’t have to be

    Anonymous, anymore.”

    Lyric after lyric I find more power in my voice. I am not just singing for myself. I am singing for the anonymous ones out there who need to hear this message. And I personally was breaking free of the feeling of anonymity that encaged me my whole life.

    Vocally, I have no idea what I sound like. If the performance is the worst I have ever sang, but one person in the audience felt a little less alone in whatever anonymous battle they are fighting, consider it a Grammy winning act. Applause erupts in the room as I imperfectly but confidently conclude the song. Wow my face is HOT and I am certainly still sweating. I take a little bow and trot back to my seat. Did I really just do that or am I in my room pretending again?

     Nope, that was real. Dang. 

    Falling asleep that night, like counting sheep, my mind just repeats: I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it…

    The present: 

    I didn’t watch the recording mom took for months after the performance. I was so insecure and did not want to hear myself assault the eardrums of a couple hundred people. I may have completed the performance (somehow), but that didn’t mean I felt like it was good. Classmates, teachers, friends, and family all told me it was great but they were probably just being nice, right? 

    The truth is, I still don’t know if it was “good.” But I have watched the performance, many times by now.  I mean, it’s alright. But did I hit every note exactly how I wanted? No. Was I off tempo at some points? Yeah. But I did it. And the one thing I can say with total confidence is that I am so unbelievably proud of myself. The thing I used to literally dream about, with a song that meant the absolute world to me– I did it. If I have any regrets at all, it’s that I didn’t start performing sooner. Because graduation was around the corner and there would be no more Morning Meeting and no more school concerts. But to this day, every time I need a boost of confidence or a reminder that I can do the things I am most terrified of, I watch the video. Everytime I doubt myself; everytime I really want to do something but can’t work up the courage, I watch the video. The recording that I avoided for months out of fear of cringing at myself, is now my source of comfort to show that I can do it– whatever “it” may be . I can accomplish my goals. I can manifest my dreams into reality (like I literally did when I would pretend to perform it in my room). I can step out of my comfort zone and I can be seen and heard doing so.

    Singing a song I adore more than anything in front of my teachers and classmates and family and friends was never on my bingo card when I started high school. But it was most certainly in the back of my mind. And the thoughts in the back of our minds show up for a reason.

    Though this memory is still surreal to me today, the proof that it happened lies in the echoes of my own voice I hear when I need it most. After all, we all have a voice that’s meant to be heard.

    Anyway, if you’ve never heard this song, give it a listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTPUZ-H8Qa0

    Here’s me doing my thing. Scariest thing I’ve ever done.

  • God Sends Us Angels 

    My mom recently shared with me a phenomenon that has literally helped her through every stage of her life: “God sends us angels when we need them.” 

    I vaguely remember her describing this to me a while back, but was reminded of the significance of this idea a few weeks ago when I was experiencing an absolute low, feeling like an island, reminiscing on relationships I’ve had in my life, wondering why some had to fade and why others were not serving as prominent of a purpose in my life as they used to. 

    The idea behind this philosophy is that friendships and other relationships will come and go, but almost always with a purpose. Yes, it is based on religious faith and trusting that God’s path for you regarding who you encounter in this life is completely intentional. But the belief does not necessarily require you to practice religion in order to live by it. 

    As a nostalgic person by nature, I have found myself buried in the past countless times and mourning what was, particularly about former connections I made with other people. When I think about my childhood best friends, pets, former mentors in my life, or any kind of meaningful relationship that I once had, I feel disappointed at the realization that the relationship might not exist anymore or I haven’t connected with those people in months or years. But what I have started to realize is that it’s not the length of the connection that matters, it is the impact. Once you establish those bonds, they never completely disappear. The concept is that we are sent the exact people we don’t even realize we need, when we need them most. And when that chapter of life comes to a close, your life might not involve that person as much but that’s okay. The point is, if you pay attention, people are sent to you with purpose whether you notice it in the moment or not. 

    Mom has explained this theory to me by sharing stories of her life. The highs, the lows, the new, the scary, the exciting, and the hopeless. Throughout her years on this Earth she picked up on a pattern. In the times when you feel entirely alone, lost, or confused, there will likely be at least one specific encounter or relationship that miraculously arrives to guide you. If you believe in God, it is highly likely that these people are angels sent to light up the path ahead or help you come to a realization. Whether it was a best friend, a co-worker, a relative, or a complete stranger, she noticed that people weave in and out of our lives with a purpose. 

    When I look back on some of the most challenging periods of my life, usually one of the first things I can recall are the relationships I had during that time. Who was by my side? Who ignited that epiphany? Who held my hand and walked me through the seemingly endless tunnel until we were laughing on the other side of it all? There’s always that one person that stands out. And if not a person, maybe that animal who ran up to you on the street. Maybe it was the teacher who ended class with a powerful statement that made you emotional. Maybe it was the music artist who released a song that articulated your emotions so well it seemingly came straight from your diary. Or perhaps it was the lady in the nail salon who complimented you out of the blue; “you are unique and beautiful.” 

    But these angels are not always easy to recognize. You almost never notice them on the spot because they are hidden in plain sight. When I look back on some of the times I believe I was visited by angels, I realize that in the moment I felt completely isolated and alone. It seemed like no one was there to help, never mind even recognize that I was struggling. But when I look at it now thinking back, I remember that one person who checked in on me. The one conversation that gave me hope. Or the person I observed from a distance who inspired me to persevere whether they knew it or not. I think of that one friend in elementary school who wanted to be my friend when the rest of the class was too busy turning their backs. I think of the people I met through swimming who I only saw a couple times a year but each time we would pick up right where we left off as if we never stopped talking. I think of my cat who absorbed too many of my tears into her fur and never complained (even though she hated being wet). The list goes on and on. But at the end of the day this phenomenon really just serves as a comforting reminder that we are never truly alone, and angels do exist if you open your heart to them. You might not feel it at the moment, but when you see the light at the end of the tunnel you may start to suspect you were guided by some supernatural or spiritual visitor. The bittersweet part is, these angels aren’t always able to stick around forever. As we move through our individual lives we might grow apart, drift, or fade from each other. But that’s completely natural and okay. Just because we don’t talk to or see that person anymore, does not change the fact that the relationship will be treasured forever. When I think of some of the most impactful people in my life I realize how perfect their timing was and it seems to be no coincidence they arrived at my door when they did. 

    Just like not all heroes wear capes, being an angel doesn’t require wings. And the most beautiful part is, though you’ll never know it, you might just be that angel for someone else.

    a text I received from Mom recently that I immediately screenshotted to save as a little reminder. I think she was the angel I needed in this moment!

  • I don’t know what I’m looking for

    But I really hope I find it 

    Through the snow capped mountains 

    murky rivers underwater 

    and the valleys with meadows of green. 

    I hope I find it. 

    I don’t know where I’m going 

    But I know the direction 

    is forward

    or something like that 

    so I hope I find it. 

     I’ll keep following 

    no footsteps

    no map 

    because no one has the answers 

    of how to get there

    because no one has taken 

    this trip before. 

    “Good luck, I hope you find it.”

    But I think if I keep advancing 

    forward

    through the snow capped mountains 

    murky rivers underwater 

    and the valleys with meadows of green. 

    Maybe I’ll finally find what it is 

    I don’t know 

    I’m looking for.