she doesn’t know her name.

she sits, her mind a collection of hurricanes and utter chaos and wonders if she’ll ever know. will she ever perfectly fit into society’s collection of perfection or will she die without having left a single trace of her existence? will she exist with all the wonders of the world or will she cease to exist like every item of history that came before her?

she doesn’t know, but she has this seemingly strange theory:

deep down she’s always known that she’s not real, and that her reality may seem real but she’s dreaming. she’s up on the clouds, not thinking of coming down, and she’s floating. while the real her, whoever this nameless individual is, is sleeping waiting for her nightmare to come to an end, so that she can be free to start again. her afterlife will be her new beginning, and her death- well her death will be the trigger to her cease of existence, like many of those who lived nameless lives before her; never having left a mark or never even having a name.

this nameless part of her life has caused her to lose her identity, altering the way she once knew herself as. just when she thinks she’s found her missing shadow, that shadow begins to fade, and like that shadow so does she. her entire life as it stands right now is a giant question mark. she’s a tiny blip amongst millions of vibrant stars, and she knows that if her light burns out, that galaxy wouldn’t look any different.

she doesn’t know her name.

in 10th grade, shortly after getting out of a relationship with her ex-girlfriend, she started to question her sexuality. again she sat, her mind now a collection of rain clouds and loud storms, as she tried to pinpoint where she fit on the LGBTQ+ spectrum. she settled for bisexuality to put her demons at bay, but she soon lay awake at night with a head full of questions and found herself dancing with her demons. eyes filled with tears, palms sweaty, mouth dry, her head swarming with wild thoughts, so much she felt sick- she asked herself if she could be bisexual when she’s only ever been with one woman; her bones cracked and crushed against the weight of her burden. she soon found herself suffocating. it was then, with every volt of energy she had, she deemed her sexual orientation nameless; this being the only nameless aspect of her life she’s comfortable with admitting.

soon after coming to this conclusion, she stopped waking up on Sundays to walk into the house of god, which worried the woman whose own bones cracked, trying to give birth to her. Her mother, a religious but pure heroine, completely unaware of the tide her young blood has been swept under or the kiss she shared with her demon’s curse. her daughter stopped worshipping their saviour in public, because she knew she wasn’t wanted in a place full of people who believed in the literal concept of adam and eve. afraid to hear her mother tell her, “darling, god did not make adam and steve.” you see, she’s always been an outcast, even in her faith, but she’s okay with it. she’s okay with the fact that her only friend will be the words she writes to herself in an old notebook, with a couple pages ripped out. she’s okay with the fact that she will always be a homebody; always on the outside, never being in.

you see she’s small, not one soul can really see her. she’s been taught to keep quiet, sit still, look pretty, speak when spoken to, and never ask any questions. upon doing what she’s told, she fades yet no one notices. no one sees her resilience or her ability to be outspoken, as this girl somewhat broken, has become a heroine left taken for granted.

she’s an introverted goddess. quiet and shy, has a voice yet no room to speak. her mind is full of colours and beauty, she creates poetry and truly she falls for those she cannot have, she can’t even talk to guys. her heart broken, beaten, battered, and bruised by lovers who never actually owned it; treated the fragility of her tender heart like dust and drove a knife right through it. she’s a lover who’s more than worthy of showing her capability of love, yet she is only able to express it when putting pen to paper. she flirts using poetry, she often says.

she calls herself nameless el, because she’s nameless in more ways than one. to others, they knows this name as what she portrays herself on Youtube, or the pseudonym she uses when she signs her poetry. she uses nameless el as the signature to finish her love letters. love letters she wrote but never sent, because this is her way of trying to forget you, still she sits here and dreams, still in love with the shape of you. she wishes she could spend forever with you, living like lovers do. but again she sits, her mind now a collection of blackholes and supernovas, and she asks herself when everything she ever wanted, morphed into you. she thought about how your sky changed from lilac to purple to blue, and although what she felt for you was true, she now has to spend forever trying to forget you.

oh and one quick message before you walk out that door, she will always be better than the girl you left her for. and like you, people treat her as if she is nothing, like she will always be nothing; not even a distant memory or a reminder. others treat her as if her mind is an open book, stealing everything that makes her resilient and leaving her with everything that makes her nameless.

she doesn’t know her name.

and she’s not even close to figuring it out. although infatuated with the mystery, endless nights of torment is the price she pays for not knowing her history. she’s lost because she’s unable to find her way, despite her many efforts. she’s stuck, sinking deep into the quicksand of life and she screams violently for help, because she’s fading, no one can help her unfortunate soul. she’s uninspired because her world is colourless, her canvas is blank, and her mind is black. she feels pressured to conform to the norm, and because of her stolen resilience, she no longer has a choice. she feels slept on, a force to be reckoned with, but can you see her? can anyone see her?

maybe it’s because she’s fading, slowly but painfully, into the background. her vibrancy now turned dull, but that galaxy still looks the same. the world still turns and lovers- well lovers continue to match their infinities to other infinities. time never stopped, the tick never slowed its tock, and no one ever noticed.

but in that moment of her fading from reality, from the lives she failed to impact, from the people who failed to acknowledge her, she made a name for herself:

she is nameless el.

she may be nameless in school, online, in love, and in life, but by god, she is the purest heroine the world has ever seen. any soul she’s ever touched or any person she’s ever met, should be calling themselves lucky, but they don’t. instead, they helped her fade.