How I am getting over myself.

I used to have mornings when I didn't want to get out of bed. For many reasons, but the most prominent that I can remember is that I didn't like who I was. I wasn't happy. And getting out of bed meant that I had to admit that. And also that I had to try to like myself.
I thought my life was amazing. There was no reason for me to be unhappy. It didn't make any sense. And so I would lay there, wrapped in my quilt, wishing the day away. Praying that God would just give me an epiphany and I would suddenly understand why I didn't like my wonderful life.

I used to think I knew everything.

Smart aleck.

Dear Fleur.

The biggest fool I've ever met is me.

Love, Bell.

p.s.I don't know where I heard this.

That one woman who wrote "Charlie and Lola."

Dear Fleur.

This is me. Trying reeeeaaaalllllyyyy hard to be happy.
Note the wrinkles on my forehead.
Lately I have been having trouble with that. I think it is because I keep doing things for myself. I wear lipstick. Put my hair up nice. Sew. Read A.A.Milne. Sit on my bed in FIONI high heels and swing my legs. Search every room in the house for Anne Of Green Gables. And indulge myself by walking around saying "poppysmic."
But none of that is working.
Want to know what makes me really happy?
Making other people happy.
I need to do more for others.
•
This morning I woke up and wanted to be best friends with Lauren Child. It had nothing to do with my dream last night. It was just a beautiful yearning in my chest. And I need to get it out there. Call me crazy, but it's going on my bucket list. And I am going to make myself happy by doing something for Lauren Child one day.
•
I JUST HAVE TO SAY, I HAVE BIG PLANS INVOLVING LAUREN CHILD RIGHT NOW. THEY COULD AMOUNT TO ONE OF THE MOST BRILLIANT THINGS EVER.
or nothing. nothing at all.
•
Now I think I'll go find Ria the molasses to make her happy.
Love from Bella.

Leonard Woolf.

Dear Fleur.
Today I sat&read Letters To Crushes for inspiration. It is magnifique. Written by shy people. Brilliant people. Confident. Awkward. Petite. Tall. Athletic. Random. Stupid. Wise. Amazing.
All of them are cute.
And one day I hope one of those 'crushers' will find a story written by me, and like it. And then go and tell their little crush how they really feel.
•

"freckled boy,

you're the only person that i can't stay mad at. the only person that can make me laugh with a simple look. the only person who makes me feel on top of the world. but most of all you're the only person other than me who can control my emotions. without you, i'd be lost.

shy girl"

"harold,

you are adorable and funny. every time we have one of our lengthy chats i fantasize about our wedding. we are both cubs fans, so basically you passed the ultimate 'marry me' test. even though you have a silly last name, i would take it because that's how wonderful i think you are.

secretly yours,

margaret"

"This is a problem, gawky boy

My heart plummetted a little bit when I heard that she might like you. She's way prettier than me. And she's really nice, I know. But please...keep heading down the path that you're on. I'm waiting at the end of it, and we would be just magical.

Off-kilter girl"

"Dear Choir Boy,

Sit with me on the plane to New York?

Love, Choir Girl"

"you,

are red, freckled and strong-armed in the best way. a way that wraps around me like down comforters, weighing me down and pulling me deeper into my mattress on snowy mornings. please don't ever leave,

me."

"you,

i like when we sit next to each other and your leg fits perfectly against mine. i like when our feet bump and we don’t apologize. i like this comfort. i like this closeness. i like you.

— me"

"her,

i like it when you ramble.

— him"

"you,

I only allow you to mess up my hair because I like you. I only allow you to steal my french fries because I like you. I only allow you to make fun of me because I like you.

I like you. Too, too much.

Let’s cut paper snowflakes and play Jenga all night forever.

— me"

"virginia woolf,

today you asked me to hold your handbag while you passed your little porcelain palm over your hair (stubborn, you'd called it, stubborn and nasty) and tried to smooth it out. well, while i stood there, i saw one hair thrown out in the sunlight, rising up from the rest and falling down, like a wave; like a poem; and it came to me that moment, watching that one hair, that the sun was there solely for this. for you. and - you had caught it by now, united it with the rest - each living thing lined up, took order, and surrendered themselves under your precious flat shoe.

i would've told you, virginia, right then that i loved you and perhaps forever would. but a cloud passed in front of the sun; you took your handbag back and muttered something about how we must be going; sound rejoined; and the imperfect world thumped on.

in cowardice,

leonard woolf."

•

See why I read them? They make my heart skip a beat.

And whoever that Leonard Woolf boy is, he deserves that girl. Hands down, he does.

Love from Bella.