#also these photos are older (from my masters graduation and grad pictures)

[doesntseeyourbeauty]

happy swiftie selfie night! it’s weird to post pictures of myself but here are my most recent favourite ones (not really selfies but hated the ones i tried to take - it’s too dark in my apartment without flash and my glasses weren’t cooperating)

[alwaysmychoices]

Today, I had this idea for the ending of another project I’m working on, and I couldn’t sleep until I had written it out. 

Because I am nowhere near finished with this project and wanted to share it, here it is. It has absolutely nothing to do with Ethan Ramsey (sad), but it is my ending to a story I came up with that mirrors Ethan x MC. 

You may not know Ellis and Ben’s story, but here’s their happy ending. 

I thought about turning back at least a hundred times.

I imagined running through the airport during my layover, demanding an outrageous ticket back to London. I imagined catching a cab and walking back into his apartment only to find him reaching for his keys to come after me.

That image got me through the eight-hour flight, but when I landed in New York for my layover, I didn’t book another flight. Instead, I bought a cup an overpriced cup of coffee – strong, black, and secretly sprinkled with sugar, just like he liked it – and posted a picture to my Instagram story. For the rest of my layover, I checked to see if he had seen it yet.

He hadn’t.

I don’t know why I was surprised.

I gave him every opportunity for him to ask me to stay, and he never did. Instead, he wished me luck, kissed my cheek, and waved my cab off as we drove to the airport. He made it very clear that he didn’t want me to stay. Instead, he wanted me to go off and have all the adventures I could. He wanted me to remember the last year as one of those great stories you share in crowded bars, when your European escapades feel particularly exotic. He was a stamp in my passport, and I was a pleasant surprise.

Benjamin Clark didn’t mean for me to look back. He gave me no reason to hope, yet I did anyway.

I almost turned back before boarding my flight to Charlotte. I let myself have one last fond daydream of returning to him and spending the fall by his side, but at the end of the daydream, I still knew that winter would be a mystery.

Benjamin Clark wasn’t the kind of person you run out of an airport for. If you did, you would only be disappointed in the end.

We weren’t a grand romance. We were, at best, a humorous coming of age film with an exotic locale.

So, I flew home. For a few months, I lived with my parents and applied to every job I could find. While I waited, I hit up childhood friends and visited my old haunts. Sometimes, I would post photos and watch my notifications to see if he liked it.

He did once or twice.

He even viewed my story a handful of times, but he knew better than to message me.

In October, I got a job in D.C., and with two suitcases and a lively early 2000s playlist, I drove up alone. I rented a small bedroom from a friend of a friend, Jessica, in Alexandria, and as soon as I met Jessica, I decided we would be friends. She helped me unpack, and to celebrate my first night, we went to a nearby bar.

It took me four tequila shots for me to message Ben.

He didn’t reply until my sixth.

I didn’t realize it was five in the morning in his time zone. Even if I had, I don’t think I would have cared.

In the middle of a crowded bar, I told Benjamin that I was going to unfollow him and that I wanted him to unfollow me, too.

I don’t know what he felt when I did that. I like to think he was just as heartbroken as I was. Because I don’t know, I get to tell myself whatever I want. Some days, I need to think that he was devastated and enjoyed the remaining connection as much as I did. Some days, I need to think that he was just being nice.

Whatever it was, he messaged me back that he understood.

After a minute, he added that he would miss me.

I didn’t respond to that.

Instead, I unfollowed him. I deleted our DMs. I unfavorited his contact. I deleted our text thread.

I never thought about flying back to London for him after that.

I still harbored the fantasy that he would come to me, though…

I kept all the pictures. I even put one on display in my room. His back was turned to the camera, so I could tell myself that it didn’t mean anything when I taped it to my corkboard. I said I just liked the view.

Of course, Ben was an integral part of the view. Maybe even better than the view.

I lived in that apartment for a year. I went part-time at my job and started grad school. I wanted an apartment closer to campus, and Jess moved with me. I took special care of packing that photo, but when I got to my new apartment, I never displayed it. It lived at the bottom of my desk drawer, safe but out of sight.

I started dating someone that semester. His name was Daniel. He was a classmate, and everyone in my life loved him. We were together for six months, and in that time, I only posted one photo of him. When I posted it, I watched to see if Ben would like it. He never did. I took that photo down when Daniel and I went our separate ways.

In the year following, I cut four inches off my hair, repainted our kitchen, and made new friends. I started drinking gin, and I changed my coffee order. I was close to finishing my masters, and I was already looking for jobs all over the city. I even flirted with the idea of leaving DC, though I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I didn’t think about Ben much during that time. I doubt he thought of me either.

If I was a woman who believed in fate, I might think that there was some grand plan that brought me to that dive bar in April.

But I don’t believe in fate. I believe in coincidences, and it was one grand coincidence that I accepted a friend’s offer to meet at a bar downtown. It was also a coincidence that my friend was late and that, while waiting for her, I took a seat at the crowded bar.

It was even bigger coincidence that the man trying to get around me to order a vodka tonic was Benjamin Clark.

Three years after Ben kissed me goodbye in London, he looked exactly the same…

And even more startling, he looked at me just like he had all those nights before in Sarajevo, like he was astounded how much he liked me standing beside him.

“Ellis?” he was so happy to see me that I instantly forgot the last three years I’d devoted to moving on from him. I was happy to see him, too, if just a little more wary than he.

He was thirty now, and I could see the age on his face when he stood close. Experience etched his skin around his eyes, but after years of frowning and scowling, his smile lines hadn’t been touched. He was still infuriatingly handsome, even more so now that his hair was longer.

“Ben?” I couldn’t erase the amazement from my voice, nor could I do anything other than stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

He invited me back to his table, and against my better judgement, I joined him.

There was a woman waiting for him. She couldn’t have been much older than me, but she had a bronze, sultry glow I had always lacked. I immediately worried she was his girlfriend, but she was so friendly to me that I soon let the thought go. Either she wasn’t his girlfriend and didn’t care who he brough to their table, or their relationship was so strong that she wasn’t intimidated by me in the slightest. Either way, there wasn’t much I could do.

He introduced me as an old friend, one that was “one of the best” in our field. It was a complete lie, and I called him on it. He met me when I little more than an intern at an NGO he didn’t even work at. If he wanted to brag on anyone, it was himself, because he was the one who trained me.

He rolled his eyes and ordered a vodka tonic and a mojito for me.

Mojitos had been my favorite drink when we knew each other.

“You’re being too critical,” Ben corrected me with the same voice he used to use when I made a mistake at work.

“You’re being too generous.”

“You were full of potential, even when you couldn’t work a coffee maker to save your life,” Ben scoffed, and not for the first time, I was offended.

“I didn’t burn your fucking coffee,” I asserted forcefully.

The first day we met, he said I burnt his coffee, and I hadn’t.

“Yes, you did,” Ben insisted.

“No, I didn’t!”

We argued for a while.

At some point, my friend arrived, and sensing I didn’t intend to leave this table, she introduced herself and took a seat next to the beautiful tan woman. They talked among themselves as Ben and I disagreed.

He argued that I had been the one who messed up the paperwork for the festival in Belgrade. I called him a liar.

We made peace when he offered me a drink but said we had to stop fighting if I took it.

I seriously considered not accepting that mojito.

But I did.

And he asked what I was doing in D.C.

I told him my story – the job, grad school, my impending graduation, and my tiny apartment at the end of the metro line.

“And you?” I asked, already half-done with my mojito. He had hardly taken a sip of his vodka tonic. Always a slow drinker.

“Moved here a few months ago,” he explained, taking one tiny sip that made me hate him, “I took a job downtown.”

I raised my eyebrows accusatorily, “Downtown?”

“I didn’t sell out,” Benjamin stopped me before I could even suggest it.

I raised my hands innocently, “I didn’t say you did.”

“You were thinking it.”

He was right. I was.

“Well, whatever it is, I hope you’re happy,” I was telling the truth, but I also hoped he would give me every detail so I could finally decide whether or not he had actually sold out.

“I am,” Ben watched me, rightfully suspicious.

“That’s great.”

“You’re judging me,” Ben accused.

“I am,” I boldly confirmed, “I distinctly remember being warned time and time again not to sell out, but look at you…” I shook my head like I was ashamed of him. I wasn’t. I really was happy if he was happy. I just liked to torture him a bit to make up for all the times he had judged me.

As I predicted, Ben was outraged.

He spent the next hour justifying his career and his decisions.

Our friends left us at midnight. I honestly had forgotten they were even still there.

Near one am, I was convinced and gave him my approval. He knew he didn’t need it, but he seemed happy to have it.

It was surprisingly easy to be with him.

I always thought that, if I ran into him again, I would be awkward and pained. I thought that, once you loved someone like I loved Ben, you could never encounter them casually again. I was wrong about that. Sitting and talking with Ben felt like the most natural thing in the world.

I only stumbled once.

That was at 1:30 am, when he checked his watch and told me that he would need to get home soon to check on Porter.

I recognized the name. It was a name we came up with together. It had been a blisteringly cold winter day, and from the comfort of his kitchen, we dreamt up ridiculous, silly names for the dog Ben dreamed of having. At the end of the conversation, we settled on Porter, short for Portobello Mushroom. Ben poured me a second cup of coffee, and I asked him why he didn’t just get a dog if he wanted one.

He told me that he wasn’t ready. As long as he kept moving across the continent every year or so, he couldn’t take care of a dog. His career wasn’t stable enough for a dog, nor was he.

When he got a dog, he was ready to settle down.

Now, he had the dog…

I didn’t mean to, but I did it again.

I dreamed up a future with Ben. I allowed myself to hope for him. I began to long for his attention and affection.

I was scared when I realized it. One night had erased three years of work.

But I didn’t stop doing it.

When we parted that night, I wanted to ask him to come home with me, but I didn’t. He kissed my cheek, helped me in my Uber, and waved me goodbye from the pavement. It was exactly the same scene as when I last saw him in London.

I felt ridiculous for hoping for more.

He followed me on Instagram that night.

He texted me the next morning.

I met him in a coffee shop after class, and I stayed so long that I had to cancel dinner with Jessica.

I would love to say that I never saw the rest coming, but that would be a lie. I knew.

I knew that coffee would turn into dinner, and that would turn into nights in his apartment. Playful texts in the middle of the day would turn into celebrating our first anniversary. My drawer in his apartment turned into dominating half of his closet, and playing with his dog would turn into claiming Porter just as much as Ben did.

Two years after our grand coincidence, I got a job offer in New York, and I walked home slow that day. I didn’t know if our sweet little fairy tale extended beyond the District of Columbia. The first time, he hadn’t asked me to stay. But this time I asked him to come with me.

Three months later, we packed our life into a U-Haul, and from the passenger seat, I looked over at Ben and had the distinct feeling that I might just get to look at him for the rest of my life…

[chelsealeemargarette]

𝒲𝑒'𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓅 𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓋𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓇𝑜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓉𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅!

HIRAETH

I wish I could put other pictures, but this is the only picture that I could get my hands to. This was taken way back when I was still living with my mom, i am the one at the very left holding the kid in all white, my brother is the one smiling cheekily beside me AJ my childhood friend was the one holding him. I don’t have a clear memory of my childhood, I can’t even distinguish some of my memories. Some of my memory come and go, I always feel like I’m experiencing déjà vu. 

Fast forward, I now live in Romblon. I spent almost half of my life there. This photo was taken at the beach near my grand mother’s house, we used to go there every weekends or if we have free time. Growing up away without my parents, I can say that I developed mistrust. I had always been envious when I hear the other kids in my class talk about their parents. At a very young age I got curious as to why other kids have parents while I don’t have mine. I was living miles away from them, and they don’t even bother to ask how I am doing. I may be surrounded with other people who loved me, but there will always be this little voice in my head that asks me how would my life turn out if I was with my parents.

JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL

As I grew older and associate myself with different people, I learned to go out of my comfort zone. With the help of these people I was slowly developing to be a more better version of myself. I tried various activities that will make my life a little bit more colorful than usual. I can relate this phase of my life to Erikson’s 3rd stage Initiative vs. Guilt. I got outside my safe zone and started interacting with different kind of people that eventually turned out to friendships. And I’m proud to say that I’ve been friends with these people for almost 3 years.

EVERY BEGINNING HAS ITS ENDING

As I was just starting to build myself, challenges were faced. I spent my summer vacation in Pampanga with my lolo, lola and tatay. A week after he came back to Pampanga because he accompanied me back to Romblon and he also attended the wake of my great grandma which is his mother, I received a call saying that he was rushed to the hospital because of cardiac arrest. I still remember that day vividly up unto this day, I can’t stop crying on our Physics class that day. At lunch it was announced that he was dead, Devastated was an understatement, he was one of the pillars of my life and I lost him in a blink of an eye, I didn’t even get the chance to bid my goodbye to him properly. 

A year after my grad father’s death, his sister, the grand mother that took care for me for all of my life also died because of cancer. She died after my birthday, At this point I don’t even know what to do with my life. I realized that everyone was gonna leave maybe not now but sooner or later. I was scared of being left alone, and so I started isolating myself, I stopped my studies for a good year to get a grip of myself. Did I get a grip of myself? I don’t know, maybe?

PICKING UP MYSELF

I slowly picked myself up and surrounded myself again with people that can help me. I had a hardtime because it was the firs time that I got so far away with the friends that I grew up with. And with my trust issues resurfacing, it took me a long time to open up to people. The fact that I need to deal with new people in a totally new environment is what scared me the most. But as time passed by, I got to meet amazing new people that made my life a bit brighter than usual. 

NEWEST PAGE

i’m now officially opening the newest page in my life. I’ve come to an understanding that I didn’t need to be trapped in the past, the past shouldn’t hold me back. It should strengthen me. With this new page I aim to be more happy and see the only positive things. I need to accept that things in this world are not permanent, and our loved ones will always leave us. I had too much and with my college life starting I wish to only be walking on a flowery path with my friends. I’m claiming it, I will be staying in PNU for 5 years and graduate with a Master’s degree and make everyone proud especially my father and aunts.