malade de paris

four months left on vacation and you already packed your bags

123 days left in this city, and some of you went to your hotel rooms

 and i haven't seen you since

2,952 hours until paris is just a stamp on your passport and you're

 acting like you're already gone

177,120 seconds might pass you by because you couldn't find the

 eiffel tower without your tour guide

well i can't count how long it took me to write my first blog post

and i don't know how many hours i spent on my journal

but i know that five months have come and gone and i'm not just a 

tenant here anymore

and i know that paris might be a metaphor but it's always felt more 

real that alpine, utah

i know that i always end up saying hello just before i'll have to 

say goodbye

i know that i still have 1 year and 326 days until i can breath 

again

and i know that we'll take turns coming home 

paris can't wait on me forever

so i have four months to say goodbye, and four months to say what i

 want to say

and not enough time for any of it

let's talk about it

most people believe that they are either blessed, or cursed

sometimes i think that i'm both.

but if we're going to talk, let's talk about you

if we're going to talk, lets talk about how you've probably already

  decided which one you are

if we're going to talk, let's be real.

the moment that defined which one you are doesn't lie in that time

 that you got a C on that chemistry test

or even in the 8th grade when you didn't get that boy 

it lies in all the times that you cry for hours and no one seems to 

hear.

it lies in the first time that dad slept on the couch 

and it lies in the last time you remember him in the house at all.

it may have been on that sunday where nothing seemed to be going 

right and that girl around the corner just couldn't leave you alone.

or it may have been when you just wanted something to distract from

 the pain just for a second.

i'm still trying to pick what moment is mine.

if we're gonna talk, let's talk about how i already know some of 

yours, and how we're still strangers.

let's talk about how we publish our hearts to each other every 

week, and i still don't know your last name.

so here it is, our final moment...real talk.

let's talk about how Courtney Rome is a dude, and a junior.

let's talk about how i didn't even know Mabel Q a few months ago, 

but now i know what every single one of her posts is about.

let's talk about Eva Peron and how we all secretly want to be her.

let's not talk about turning in our journals because you don't 

have to.

let's not talk about our last our last post because this doesn't 

have to be it.

let's not talk about leaving Paris, because it's the best vacation

that i have ever been on, and i'm not a tourist anymore.

your eyes come first

i'm going to start with what i don't remember

because i don't remember the view, but i remember your eyes

and i remember the feeling of your hands on my back

and getting a glimpse of the moon over your shoulder when you held 

me closer

i remember your smile...your real smile that you didn't try to hide

and i remember you saying that i was making it too hard for you 

to leave

i'm sorry

i remember those phone calls that always seemed to interrupt us 

i remember your birthday and getting in trouble because we didn't 

want to say goodnight

and i remember doing it all over again the next night

i try to remember July 24th but then i stop myself because i know 

i'll get too nostalgic for you

but maybe it's worth it

i remember every note to all 18 songs, and why you say they remind 

you of me

and i remember listening to them everyday for months after you left,

and why i'll probably do it again

i remember being told that using i is improper, but how can i talk

about you without talking about you and i?

i can't

so i'll remember it all. everything your mom tells me, the sound of 

your voice, the moon coming in second over your eyes, and the 

goodbyes. 

but more importantly i'll always remember our hello

i bought a house in paris

Dear Wondermike,

this is inspired by your post I Bought a House in Paris

this was my favorite post of yours, and i hope you approve of what i

did with it

under the ink

if it told you what i dreamed about, would you still stay to watch 

me sleep?

if i told you why i like that song, would you still listen to it 

with me?

if i told you how we were going to end, would you still have tried?

if i told you what the blacked out words said, would you still 

think the remaining are beautiful?

because the best stories lie in the words that you can't see. 

the words that you have to search to find. 

hidden in there is the 31st of may, and how amazing and horrifying i

find that day

or july 29th at 3AM, and how even though we were supposed to be sad,

we still found humor in that awful experience.

and in the center, if you look hard enough, you'll see the 24th of

july. and why i consider it the best day of my life.

and sure you may not understand, and you may prefer the words that i

have left for you to read. but they'll never amount to a 12AM text

on november 12, or an 'i miss you' on the 16th of every month

and those stories are not so easily left around to find

the lesser known "I Don't Have A Dream" speech

i never really thought of how this moment would go

i wasn't really nervous, i wasn't really excited

because i don't really care about what people think of me

i wrote what i wrote for me

some of it was really personal, and i was insecure about all of it

but i wouldn't take back a single word i wrote

so here it goes...

I'm an 18 year old girl that doesn't have a dream

i don't really know what i want from life

i change my mind everyday

i don't really know who i am or where i fit in

but truth be told i don't really care.

i use haha too much

i chose my pen name after a character of a hit 90's movie 

i use dork as a term of endearment 

July 24 is the best day that i can remember

i believe everything looks better in black

i'm writing this instead of my college essays

hawaii is my paris

my best friends all live over 3000 miles away now

i speak fluent movie quotes

and i absolutely hate mirrors

but mostly i'm me

not Cher, me

no longer anonymous

i'm just Jenna

Jenna Bell

everything ends in 1

it started with two

just two

you and me

nothing but the sound of your broken speakers to fill the silence

you said you liked my music, but i didn't believe you

no one likes my music

then there was five thousand

all swaying their phone lights to the sound of my favorite writer

and i realized that you had memorized the songs for me

and your favorite happened to be mine

then there was twenty

twenty of us left in that cold barn

all saying goodbye

john mayer had never sounded more heartbreaking

than he did that night as we all stared at our shoes

that night ended with two

just two

you and me

and as we sat there in your car

listening to those broken speakers play our favorite song

that melody had never sounded more sad

and your face had never looked more hurt

but the next day it was me

just me

just one

because at the end of the day i always end up alone

and i always end up missing everyone i ever knew

and everything ends in one

even that song