sowey did is so late, @vampire-weakend!
eye ruv u.

also hey guys!
i am going out of da americas tomorrow.
so this will be it for like 2 weeks....
but it is also the end of sad elle!

so!
yay!

anyway,
thanks for reading, guys!

love you all.

em.

born to die// lana del rey.

----

June 10th;

“I don’t get it,” George said as he flipped through a copy of Seventeen Magazine, “These boys come over here and everyone acts like it’s the greatest thing to ever happen to America. I am in a band. A fucking good band.”

I glanced over at the article he was reading about One Direction, with Effie and Ashley photographed alongside their respective pop stars, and smirked, remembering when George and I had been in the same magazine after a music festival that we attended. My hair was long, I was wearing a green corset and boots, and I had a camera dangling from my neck. I was smiling happily, hand in hand with George, stomping through the mud, and kissing behind tents.

Now we were getting high before breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

He was sitting shirtless at the table in blue, plaid boxer shorts. His hair- even longer than my short bob- was sticking up in different directions as if it was trying to run away from him. My fingers had pushed it away. 

I sat up and took a moment to let the world spin, then answered: “They’re a pop band. They’re superficial. They sing someone else’s empty words, but those words are what the youth of America wants to hear. Take that and mix it around with several baby faces and bad dance moves, and you’ve got millions. You, on the other hand, are a tragic struggling musician writing songs from your heart and singing them only to people who want to listen.” 

He looked up from the magazine and smiled, “You flatter me.”

I laid back on the chair and looked up at the ceiling, swimming with colors and monsters of a million different breeds, all caged in my mind and begging- pleading- to be free. You don’t take a bad girl and make her good, you just suppress the bad. 

Alex had been gone for five days now, and I hadn’t heard a word. Not a call, a text, even a Facebook wall post. All that was left was the ghost of him living in his closet, in his toothbrush in its glass holder, in the part of the wall that he painted a very odd looking man on last year.

And I was getting high before breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

George’s band had come back to the city,
to get inspiration for their new album-
and they were working every day. 

Including now, when George looked at the time and had a heart attack, pulling on a t shirt and jeans, kissing me on the head, and telling me to, “Be good, love.”

When you’re alone, a penthouse seems like too big a space for one person. 

I found my way to the kitchen,
planning on finding a grilled cheese but instead-
a leather bound notebook, tied with a red string,
with a design of ivy on the cover.

I untied it and looked inside,
revealing George’s lyrics from his first album,
stars drawn next to the ones that they used,
and then some new ones-
the second album.

Scribbled on a page in a runny pen-
“It’s All Right.”
It was dated three days ago.

‘Should I stay, should I go, I can't make up my mind anymore
She's walking round the corner, I've got my back to the wall

Yes you're telling me, it's alright, it's alright
Yes you're telling me, it's fine, it's alright

Life is like a jigsaw, sometimes it's all over the floor
When the pieces fit together, you feel a thing you've never felt before

You're telling me it's alright, it's alright
Yes you're telling me, it's fine, it's alright

Who's that banging on my door?
I look outside the sky's painted the floor
I think were safe I think were fine
The moments here, the feelings right, it's alright’

I closed my eyes, and slammed the book shut-
remembering the first song he ever wrote about me. 

I went to a gig of his, excitement so nested in my heart that I clawed Cam’s arm as we walked into the venue. Seeing him on stage, seeing him wink at me in the front row and then announce that this song was about someone “very special”. 

The song was called “Chemistry,” 

‘Underneath the starry sky, 
You can bring me back to life.
I touch your skin, I feel alive
Been searching for you every night.’ 


And now,
it’s just “all right”.

Oh, how times change.

I had a grilled cheese, 
and washed it down with some Smirnoff, 
and then pulled on a dress and tights.

Cam and I hadn’t spoken,
Alex was…. somewhere,
And the Upper East Side had moved on,
apart from a few Gossip Girl blasts about my “revert back to my old self.”

I was a ghost now.
I could observe but never see,
Listen but never talk.

That’s what they teach you in Manners Classes, right?
“Young ladies should only speak when spoken to, Miss Rivera.”

The door handle twisted and I expected to see Alex,
but instead saw two bodies,
tall, lean, and powerful,
following a bellboy.

“Thank you, Leonard,” my mother said as she handed the bellboy a hundred, “You’re a doll.”

The details on Leonard are that he’s short and tan, with black hair and a short, black beard that they make him shave every two weeks. 

Leonard looks at me with concern,
like most of the building staff do nowadays,
and I give him a three finger wave.

It’s then that my mother notices me,
“Oh, Elena! How are you, darling…”

When my mother hugs someone, she only puts her hands on their shoulders, and her neck past their ear, like she’s doing an odd sort of push up. Like somehow whoever she is trying to hug will spread their vermin onto her. Even me, her own daughter.

The last time I saw my mother,
she was storming away from me in the hospital corridor,
and now here she was,
hugging me and calling me, “darling”.

“Elena, you smell like the floor of a speakeasy, what happened to you?”

I rolled my eyes, 
And shrugged, 
“Life.”

Her eyes darted around the apartment,
at George and my clothes, scattered across the hardwood,
and the bottles scattered across the marble countertops.

“What /have/ you been doing?”

It might have been the weed, or maybe her face,
but I found myself laughing, and said,
“I could ask /you/ the same thing, Mother.”

“Where is Alex?”

Shrug.

“Whose clothes are these?”

Shrug.

“Elena, where are you going?”

Shrug.

The door slammed with me on one side and my parents on the other, and I walked out into the city.

Passing Leonard and his concerned glare,
and giving him a small wink that probably said,
“It’s All Right.”

June 20th;

“Elena, please?” Nate begged.

Our arms were linked as we walked down 5th Avenue, me carrying a pretzel and him a Coke. 

Cam’s Twenties Party was tonight,
And I had just informed Nate that I would not attend.

“You have to!” He argued.

“I do not have to do anything. I am wild and free!” I removed my arm from his to do a quick spin, then replaced it and we kept walking.

He chuckled, “Wild is right. Elles, I think you need to come back to your old routine. Back to the people who love you.”

I sighed, “There’s no place for me there.”

“Elena you made your own place,” he said with a smile, “So go and be that girl who no one really understands again. Or I will be forced to keep being your dad.”

“I’m just losing everyone, Nate,” I said seriously, “And me tossing them is easier than them leaving on their own.”

From across the street-
we heard a voice, “Nate! Elle!”
and saw a golden wave of hair running in front of a taxi,
which laid on its horn,
to get to where we were standing on the sidewalk.

It was Morgan.

“Morgan! Hey!” Nate said excitedly, giving her a quick hug.

I smiled and waved,
giving her a quick, “Hi.”

“What are you guys up to?” She asked, holding up a black bag she was holding and saying, “I was jut picking up shoes for Cam’s party tonight.”

“Ironically,” Nate said, “I am trying to convince her to go.”

Morgan smiled and put a hand on my elbow, almost like a warm friend that I’ve known for ages and said, “Please come! It will be so much fun!” 

There wasn’t a ‘you stole my best friend’ or ‘what the hell has happened to you’,
there was just an inviting smile on a pretty girl’s face.

I nodded,
“Yeah. Maybe. I will.”

I already had a dress picked out-
it had a black top with a white skirt, extending down to my mid thigh,
and it was gorgeous. 

I stared at it in the mirror, giving myself a quick twirl, and letting myself smile at my own reflection. I tied my hair into an elegant bun and pinned a feather into it, like I had seen in the Great Gatsby trailer. 

“Knock, knock!” George said, poking his head into my room and then pausing in the doorway, looking me up and down, and smiling, “You look…. amazing.”

I curtsied and gave him a small pout, 
“Thanks, doll.”

I looked at his jeans and t shirt, 
and asked, “You don’t look very 1920’s….”

He looked down at the ground,
and confessed, “I can’t…. exactly….”

My arms crossed over my chest and I, too, stared at my heels,
“Right. Okay. Fine.”

He crossed the room and put his hands on my waist, 
looking me in the eyes and saying,
“Elena, please just know…. I love you.”

The shock of hearing those words again,
dripping from his lips like honey and sticking to mine,
sweetly lingering like a dream,
I looked up into his eyes-
into the sincerity dancing in his pupils,
and nodded, slowly.

The weight of them was different.
Before it was a declaration, a promise,
a fire in the depths of my heart.

Now it was a plea, a beckon,
a call for me to keep trying,
it’s all for love.

Like maybe if we could hold onto that,
onto that love that we both felt here and now,
we could intertwine our bodies forever.

His lips were a centimeter from mine,
and at their touch,
I wilted for him like a flower.

Finishing the chant with,
“I love you.”

In New York City, you can almost never see the stars,
apart from a very special occasion,
the sky is nothing but a smoky blackness, 
the sky is a void into which we all surrender our souls. 

I had a pink coat that I didn’t need. Even though it made me uncomfortably hot, I hugged it closer to me. 

And then, a quick pit stop, I knocked on a nostalgic door.
Another void into which I surrendered my soul.

“Surprise, surprise,” Max said casually, reeking of alcohol, 
he opened the door wider, “To what do I owe this pleasure.”

“I need something to get me through this night,” I demanded,
thrusting a hundred dollar bill into his hands, “Something strong.”

He handed me a bag with two orange pills in it and nodded,
“Take one to forget your name, two to forget what Earth is. That’s new sh.it. /Strong/ sh.it.”

I nodded,
“Thanks.”

“Hey,” he opened his door a bit wider and said, “Why don’t you stay here tonight? I might have someone-“

“Bye, Max,” I cut him off, 
and continued down the hallway of his building,
the lights making it look almost green.

I popped one, two,
of the pills.

The lights were bright, coming at me and then retreating with red eyes,
singing to me, “hey, come dance with us!” 

I stepped toward them and heard a shriek,
a loud note telling me to retreat,
challenging the calls of the lights,
“Come dance! Come dance!”

I took another step toward them before I felt arms around me,
pulling me backward, and then saying,
“What the hell are you doing in the street? What /is/ your name?” 

He had blue eyes, almost like George’s,
but his hair was curly and he was taller.

“I’m Elena,” I answered, “Elena Rivera. Who the /fuck/ are you?”

He rolled his eyes,
“I’m Martin. Where are you trying to go, Elena Rivera?”

I told him Cam’s address, 
and he walked me the two blocks it takes to get there,
asking me about Max,
about the drugs I took then telling me that,
“he wouldn’t tell, even though it’s kind of his job to do so.”

I smiled, 
“Thanks, Martin!” 

I gave him a wet kiss on his cheek,
then he continued down the street,
and I traveled upwards but, ironically,
toward Hell.

I found Nate first, talking to his date in the corner,
they both looked at me with concerned eyes,
and I just smiled and said,
“Uh… hi.”

“Elena, what are you on?” 

“What?”

“Your hair is everywhere, you have black something on your face, and there are cuts on your knees…. What-“

Whatever he said after that,
I didn’t catch it,
I just felt myself falling upward,
Flying downward.

“I am so sorry,” he said to his date, “I’ll be right back.”

He took me by the waist,
and led me to a stairwell,
stopping only to answer a call,
“/Nate/?”

It was Cam, I could tell,
by the alarm, the authority,
I looked over at her.

“Stay here,” Nate growled in my ear, “Do /not/ move.”

He walked over to Cam,
and she seemed angry- possessive,
and I understood, even through the drugs,
what Nate escorting me to the roof by my waist must look like.

What all of this must look like.

And I felt embarrassed,
so I took a shot.

And as Nate spoke to Cam,
and she looked over at me with a look that said,
“Why?”
I took another shot.

And then Nate came back,
and took me to the roof,
dialing a number on my cellphone,
and saying something serious into it.

Before long, 
Nate was gone.

And I looked up at the sky,
iced with small stars and knew to myself that maybe I would get through all of this teenage bulls.hit.

I felt a pair of arms around me, 
pulling me up, and saying,
“Oh God, Elle….”

And there was Alex,
pulling me limp body into a tight hug and saying,
“Elena I am so, so sorry….”

He had my pink coat in his hands,
and he put it around me shoulders.

“Alex?”

He nodded, 
holding me up,
he nodded.

“Alex, where were you?”

He shook his head,
“Elena, I am so sorry. /Fuck/, I am so sorry.”

I nodded,
“Me, too.”

My body rejected everything inside of it,
and I threw up in the corner of the roof,
then fell onto my already injured knees.

My eyes were closing slowly,
the world was going out of focus,
even Alex above me screaming,
“Elle!” 

-xx, e.
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