A Letter to Myself, Part Two. - Lessons Learnt -

Dear Ellie of September 2015,

Sorry about that warning in my previous letter … but as promised, you are also going to learn some things which make this mostly OK.

If you’d like to know how you feel about this mess, three months later, I’d say the overwhelming feeling is one of tiredness, but the can’t-stop-crying-and-everything-is-hopeless phase is over, pretty much. This is mostly because your stomped-on, battered heart has been forced to take a nap in the back seat and your brain has taken the wheel. In all fairness your brain is still following a rather sketchy map but we’re moving forwards in fits and starts nonetheless, instead of driving in circles blinded by tears and edging closer to a cliff. Go you!

So, from a slightly wiser and jaded Ellie to a younger, wide-eyed and hopeful soul, all I can say is that this is part of your story now, your book, and you have to learn from it. If you don’t then someday a man will like you and you will use him in the exact way you have been, you’ll end up passing on your pain to someone else and you'll hate yourself for it. So, this is what you have learnt thus far, these are your hopes now:


The Sea & Me: A Weekend in St Ives

The sea and me (it rhymes OK, which pleases me, even if it’s not grammatically correct) have always had a pretty deep and meaningful thing going on. I'm never unhappy to see it, be by it, in it, or on it, at least not so far in my life. I may of course be pitched into it unexpectedly some day and then I probably won’t be so complimentary. When I know I'm about to spend some time by the sea though, I can physically feel the tight coil of anxiety in me, unfurling. So this weekend, spent in St Ives with my twin sisters and brother-in-law, was just what I needed. Apart from reuniting with my all-time love, I also managed to take a fair few photos. Head over to my Instagram if you’d like to check out more of them but otherwise here are a few of my favourites with an account of what we got up to.


A Letter to Myself, Part One.

Dear Ellie of September 2015, 

Something a little brutal is about to happen to you, so I'm just giving you a warning.

You know that tall, kind, and funny guy, whose smile makes your stomach flip? The one you've been geeking out with for years now and who you've often flirted with because you believed he'd never look at you like that? The one who you feel for and want to console because he is so angry and disillusioned with relationships after his break up? Well he's about to see you, the real you. You're going to think he likes you but it's not going to be as you hoped, I'm so sorry. You're going to wish this one had stayed unrequited like the rest but months after it ends, you're going to come to realise a few things that will make you feel a little better, I promise.


Music is a Minefield

I have to thank Spotify for allowing me to keep revamping my music selection. My method of collecting is to listen to my new Discover Weekly playlist and to add anything I like to my "Anything and Everything" master playlist (and then immediately spam the privileged few in my life with my latest finds). This means I have about 39 hours of songs, listed chronologically, that caught my mood at any given point in my life over the past 6 years. Like an archaeologist, examining the strata of my past, I can see where it was Summer or Winter, where I was happy or solemn but all of these songs have spoken to me in one way or another and so they are welcome in my collection. I never expected my music to turn on me though.

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