119

a bubble, burst
each time a year passes, I
feel it a little more
a sensation like hourglass sand
slipping through my calloused hands

I think of fizzles
champagne, popped
cold, crisp, unsweetened
an overflowing farewell to what we leave behind
and a toast to all we hope is ahead

118

In my life, I’ve heard stories that could crumble whole cities
some that tear us open and
dig at whatever is left
I’ve felt that secondhand sadness
when you are so overwhelmed by how much you feel
that you don’t think you can carry it all

I’ve cried with the ones I’ve loved
and said goodbye to things too good to be true
worlds that are oceans away
and lives I didn’t get a chance to live

I’ve watched people dust themselves off
wipe away tears and
move on, no fanfare

and god if that isn’t enough to know
that the world is cruel, but the world understands
maybe we don’t always get what we want
but we’re always in orbit, together
and I’m okay with that

 

 

The year is coming to a close, and I’m bringing this phrase with me: “and I’m okay with that.” Consider all the things going on in your life and all the battles you still have ahead, and add this phrase to the end of it. Here’s some of mine:

I’m a little sad to say goodbye, and I’m okay with that.
I haven’t figured it out yet, and I’m okay with that.

What are yours? Stay positive, friends. See you next year.

Love,
ELLE

117

life, lived through transition
of finding homes and making new ones
the inherent past of “returning home”
shows just how far we can stray.

I’ve met people who cried like clouds
who stuck to my skin like humidity
and sought to make a house of me

I’m learning to root my feet
into the earth, proclaiming
everything is home to me,
as long as I want it to be so.

116

the tinsel sound of
glassware, clinking
a liquid courage, building
skyscraper egomania

you pull like an apocalypse
slurred intention at your fingertips
I’m dancing to your beat
you’re singing along to someone else’s

112

there’s a comfort in family dinners
I can’t quite replicate
a scent I can’t bottle,
a warmth I can’t hold onto

forks scratch the good porcelain
but no one’s chided, the room
filled with my favourites:
the company and accoutrement

110

we’ll recount summer stories
of warm nights and warmer memories
kind people we met
and old tales we’ve left behind

we’ll find refuge in flannel
cotton wool blends into our daily attire
we’ll forget the way the beach breeze
swept through us like tides

I’m sitting on the shoreline
and I’m imagining all I promised to the universe
of all the good things I swore I’d accomplish
and all I haven’t planned quite yet

I’m awash with thinking I’m
the only person who could feel
so old and so young
and so eager to grow
for the rest of my life.

seeking quiet(er) moments 🤫

dear, you (1)

 

Another month gone, another new love letter. October came and went in the blink of an eye and I’m sure you had it jam packed with endless events: late nights, sleep-ins, hard work, Netflix binges, the list could go on. Today, let’s talk about just how busy our lives have become.

I spent all last week striding through these stunning scenes of red, orange, yellow leaves and the sound the wind makes when it dances through it. An ode to a crisp autumn, it’s amazing just how much you hear when you start really listening. Birds pecking away, leaves crunching underfoot, a dog barking in the distance. And the silence.

The moment I started to realize just how quiet it was, I realized how loud the rest of my life is. Head-down-headphones-in, meetings galore, cars honking, endless chatter. Since coming back to my reality this week, here is my two cents: clear up some space in your life to let great stuff come your way.

Our concrete commutes and dedication to the #grind aren’t the only things we have going for us. We have long lives ahead full of innovation, boundless creativity and genuine human connection.

The best parts of great thinking are in the times when you can actually hear yourself think. Let yourself have that freedom. You don’t have to always be plugged in, you don’t always have to be as successful as your Instagram says you are. Sometimes, you can just be you. And that’s pretty damn great, too.

***

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love,
ELLE

108

material flattery
you used to pine for flowers
brilliant colour centrepiece
saying all the right things, hoping
one day he’d gift you with some
but I’ll let you in on a secret:

you don’t have to be soft if you don’t want to
you can be brash and disinterested
and you can buy yourself flowers
whenever you damn well like.

106

perfectionism, permeating
everything I do
making competitions out of conversations
hoping, always, for a bronzed statue in my name
for a race that didn’t exist

I fought myself to push harder
to be better when I was fine as is
exhausted to impress others
and maybe even me, too
perhaps the silver lining
is that I grew weary of winning
when everyone I met was my opponent

I’m passing the baton and
throwing some matches
catching up with myself again, I’m
watching sunsets, golden
emboldened to be calm
to be anything I want to be
in any given moment
even if I’m not a winner every time