When Wishes Come True... Belatedly

Have you ever wished for something so much for so long, and then get it once you have grown comfortable not having it?

I have, plenty of times before. This time, it's not so... depthy. It's simply a room.

I've lived in this house since I was around 3. That's... wow, on so little sleep, it's hard to think about my mental connection between 8s, 3s and 5s. Anyways, that's around 15 years. That's more years in the same house than many of the people I know.

So 15 years I've been in this tiny room (except for a stint in the basement- too creepy, and a stint in my parents room- they wanted it back after a month or something like that). I've always envied my brother's spacious room, which is about double the size of mine. But because I was younger, I got this one, and he hasn't relinquished his room for good reason.

And since he's 22 and still living here, I came to terms about a year and a half ago that I was never getting his room until it was too late (I seriously thought I'd be out of the house before he would). Now since he has a girlfriend, he's been MIA for most of the days of the week. And I got the offer to move into his room.

Excitement? Not so much.

As I said, I came to terms with my small room a long while ago, though I still kept pining for his, thinking I'd never get it. I drew on my walls- blue vines, fish, masks, plants. My friends and I painted (very badly) Chinese symbols all around it. Quotes cover my wall in the form of sticky notes, some of them hiding more than just walls- some angry scribblings back when my dad and I were on less than good terms.

Then there's all my stuff. My books, wall hangings, shelves, knick nacks,  masks.It's true that these things would be better fit into my brother's room, but I don't know. I like the small room now, though sometimes I do wish it was a couple of feet larger. It's a closed space that comforts me from the vast and harsh world. And I've fallen with my chair into my dresser and piles of junk so many times- I don't think I could do that in a spacious room.

But I guess I could always make it that way, you know? Section it off. And I've all summer with nothing to do. And all year.

And then there was the idea that I liked the idea of having a bigger room for friends and sleepovers. But that's not happening any time soon.

But either I'm living there for 3 years, or 1. Depending if I go to Vancouver or Toronto come September. But I guess if I go to Vancouver, the room will still be there when I come back for T.O studies.

I don't know. I'll have to think about it.

It's a Record

It's nearly 1 AM. I'm not going to be a happy camper tomorrow, but right now I can't sleep, even though I finally can.

You might not believe it, but this is the earliest I've finished a co-op poster. The past two times, I've stayed up all night. And I mean all night. Last time, I got to sleep for a half hour only because I was going to the school that morning, instead of co-op. The time before, I went a good 30-something hours without sleep, and had to go to my bakery co-op.

This is refreshing, though as I said before, I won't feel so refreshed tomorrow morning. Or this morning, depending on how you want to look at it.

Speaking of looks, this is probably the prettiest poster I've made. The first one was horrid, I'll admit it, but that was when everything went wrong, and I had no answers. I was picking out thin pieces of paper from my wool blanket a year from then, or more. I'm pretty sure I could still find some that had woven themselves into it now, if I knew where that blanket was.  I kind of feel like digging it up, because I've had it wrapped around me both other times. Tradition, you know? But this time I'm breaking tradition already, not staying up all night.

But I've too much to do this week to stay up for nostalgia's sake. Plus, I don't particularly like the feeling of staying up when 9 AM rolls around. And I've a headache.

I can't close my poster this time, though. Not because of lights, or a mishap with the border. Simply because I went 3-D in a way, and so I've no idea where to put it. I might just sleep with it on top of me.

But that is enough of this sleepy ramble. I'm in pain from yesterday (another post), but at he same time I'm too tired to feel it fully, except for my head. So I'm gunna write a sentence or two of LUS to fill my daily quota and fill up on melatonin, because despite being up for a good, what? 19 hours after a long, long, week of little sleep, I'm wide awake. It's not healthy.


I don't want to see kindness in your eyes

I ask for permission after I ask the question. Because I'm more set on knowing the truth than being polite.

I've little patience for fake smiles and sugar coated words now. I've never had much patience in the first place, but now it's little to none.

Don't tell me lies of forever. I might not want to see the dark side of life today, but nor do I want to be lied to.

Perhaps I've become hard in these past few months.

But if I had one wish, and only that wish, I wouldn't use it on changing what happened, though many think I would or should. If I had a million wishes, I'd not wish to change it.

It's not that I don't miss my life before, sometimes I do terribly. It's just that it's not worth giving up my life now. They're not worth it.

In truth, they never were. In fact, they made my life near worthless.

Where did we go wrong?

Received more proof today that true love, and forever, doesn't exist.

And yet, I still believe.

I still believe. And it almost makes me cry.

I could use a dream, to go to a place much simpler than this

Tears hang on for dear, suspended life on my eyelashes as I look to the ground. There's a pebble on the ground and I kick it with the toe of my shoe. I can't help but imagine how I'd display all these memories as a series of pictures.

Us biking through the night, laughing and shouting at each other. It's the last day of summer; tomorrow we'll wake up early to start our senior year. We'll go early to see each other and hang out. And in a couple of months, everything will fall apart, but right now? Right now we don't know any of that. The darkness of the night, punctuated by stars, streetlights, and the moon herself doesn't reveal the thicker shadows that chase us. They are simply a part of the thrill of the warm summer night. We caw out without restraint. We feel the wind through our hair and our shirts, and we feel it glide over wings we only imagine we have. We stand on our pedals, gliding like birds around the corner. Our destination is clear, but it's also cloudy. We don't have to be anywhere anytime soon. Tomorrow brings new adventures, and a long lasting hope.

Us in my basement before another place became a better suit for all of us but a few. Darkness surrounds us as we hide under our blankets and stare up at the ceiling that could contain any number of spiders or ghosts- because it's half demolished. We're telling our hopes, our dreams, or secrets. All without fear, because nothing can break this now. And in the morning, we'll remember, but we won't talk about, because that's just how it works. The hall light is on, just below the stairs, peeping in through the crack in the door that is always open to let the cats in. It's us, in a triangle of strength, talking about things that are the complete opposite and it doesn't matter that they're that way. We're not just a triangle of strength, we are a triangle of hope.

Us with the sun shining on us as we pose for the camera. Butterflies are fluttering everywhere, and two of us are secretly hoping they don't land on us, or we might just cry. It's the picture of friendship, as we smile and hold each other close. The air is humid, but it doesn't dampen our spirits. Our happiness soars to the height of the butterflies, and our hope is on their wings.

Us with punctured glo-sticks in our hands, dancing around my basement again, bringing the darkness to life. It doesn't matter that one of us has love-handles, and another has a bit of a stomach, and another has scars that run across her abdomen. We dance in short skirts only one of us would ever wear outside of the darkness and bras that don't match anything we ever wear. We laugh and sing and paint each other with the glowing substance. We smile wide without restraint, and our hairs are a mess because we just don't care. The blend of light and dark mixed with our endless and seemingly unconditional love for each other gives us the freedom we crave, and the hope we need to keep going day after rotten day.

And then I'd show Us in different places- one in her basement playing horse and car games on her television, because I just can't picture the party girl she is now. One up late at night, staring at her cellphone, texting shallow messages to the new people she knows, because they just wouldn't get her like I do. And one sitting at her computer desk, work all around her, and piles of books, because she needs something else to fill her time now that all the memories are what was and never, ever to be what will be. And in this broken picture, there'd be hope still. Hope in new futures, sitting right above the shattered hope of staying together.

Basically- I'd paint a picture of Us and Hope, because that's what is the same about all these pictures, and every other one I can think of.

It's enough to make a girl want to go back, or to plan out a fairy tale ending. Another bike ride, another sleep over, another butterfly observation, another glow-stick night. And then maybe I could scratch the final picture, and paint something entirely different. A girl who has Us to play video games with. A girl who has Us to text deep messages to. A girl who has Us to replace all these pointless things.

I kick the pebble farther, and it lands in the gutter, falling, falling, falling. With it, goes my wish to bring everything back to the good times. The price for these paintings alone is too steep.

Airplanes like Shooting Stars

Oh, I can almost go on as if nothing is happening. I can keep going on and on and on, and ignore that I'd be on a different patch of soil right now, if I'd made a few less choices.

But the patch of soil I stand on is my own. I stand here by myself, on my own. To get here, I've walked on my own. I've made my choices on my own. Everything that got me here, everything that is here, is my own.

And some days I can't decide whether that is a good thing, or a sad thing.

"I am miserable. It doesn't become me, but I find I am too miserable to care."

Pretty Little Liars

Right about now, I'm wishing I was part of the Pretty Little Liars A-Game. It seems like thrilling fun. And then I think how the girls in those books must have felt (though I've only read the first 78 pages of the first book), having "A" threaten to spill all their secrets. It's chilling.

In a bit of "You don't know what you're talking about/be careful what you wish for," I wish that something exciting like that would happen to me.

But, after that bit, I think "Maybe I'll stick with wishing fairies would abduct me."

x x x

A Wish, Fractured into a Thousand Pieces

I plucked a piece of wish from the air, and couldn't help but wonder if it was part of one of your wishes. And perhaps, that piece of your wish flew to me on it's own will, borne by your breath and your secret hope, and if your wish came true after all.

And maybe I hope it hasn't come true yet, because maybe it was meant to bring me to you.


Do you see the defeat in the shrug of my shoulders? Do you see the sadness in the blinks of my eyes?

I like to think you do. I like to think that the second I give up is the second you step forward and shout "Darling, wait!" and that I'll hesitate. And I'll doubt that you've very much good to say, but I've already hesitated, pulled sharply by those words, and you see the opportunity to catch me now, before I beat my wings and flutter away yet again. So you'll wrap your arms around my shoulders, and you'll apologize. You'll tell me that from now on, you'll listen and you'll see, and never again will I feel so useless, so ignored, so unwanted.

I almost believe that's what you'll do. I'm marvelous at conjuring these pictures, aren't I? The kind of pictures you can almost walk into, that if you let out a kick, it will halt at a tree. I'm good at this, because I have to be.

Because if no one real will see the dismay in my heart and the tremble on my lips, at least I can still imagine someone doing so.

And telling me that it's alright.

Shouting "Darling, wait!" and at those words, I'll hesitate.

The Ruining

I had a perfect moment yesterday, and not even an hour after it I was back to hating everything.

And today too, because I canceled working with Sheriff for money I need to get math help, and then there's an assembly. And then I find out that there's no courses to sign up for January, so I won't be back in school till September next year, and whether I get into Vancouver or GBC is the question, and after that, if I get accepted into both, which one will I go to?

And to get to Vancouver, I need a special certificate. I'll probably do it over the summer.

The Perfect Thing

I had one of those moments. You know, one of those moments.

One of those moments where you're sitting in a car going down a highway, and the window is down and your hair is everywhere, and the radio is playing the perfect song, something up beat and awesome, and you look out at the sky and maybe you see a cloud or two, but the rest is absolute blue and you can't help but smile.

Or when you're swinging and the wind is blowing by you in equal measure, and you feel as if you can, at any moment, leap off and fly with the wings it gives you, and each stroke as you go back and forth doesn't seem like a sad symbolism of your life.

Or when you look up from your book as you lounge on the front porch, and you see the butterflies sailing through the air and the flowers are just blossoming, and the sun is kissing your cheeks, and the wind isn't hot, but it isn't cold, and it's hard to turn away and go back to reading about some fantastic place.

Or when you lay on the grass with your friends all around you, your hair spread out like a rising sun, and you spend the time telling wishes and dreams that don't make sense, but don't need to, and you find pictures in the clouds and the leaves and anything else you can possibly see, and everything has possibility to be funny.

One of those moments, when everything seems to click together, and one can truly believe that this place, this world, is perfect and nothing should ever change, and it will never change simply because it's finally perfect. And nothing, not math, not loneliness, not pain or tears can ruin this moment, because they don't matter.

And you forget to know that following every one of these moments is one equally bad as this is good. You  know the end is coming, and the end is terrible and terrifying. And you can't stop it. You forget to know that this moment is only that, a moment, and moments can't change what they are and become something longer.

And so the song ends and the radio plays something slow and sad and true, or your legs tire and your bum hurts, or a car speeds by and the world you read about has one-upped the butterflies and the flowers and the sun, or a hard secret slips out from loose lips, and the moment is gone.

It has done it's job- it has made you believe in a world that we're not too sure deserves it for a little longer. It packs it's small, heavy bags and moves on to the next person to receive this bittersweet package. And no matter how much you shout at it to come back, it won't. This kind of moment doesn't take orders. It goes where it pleases, and pleases where it goes, and when it goes away, it leaves the smell of rotting leaves in it's place, along with the wistful thought that maybe this world is worth something.

Slope = Rise/Run

Every fairy tale has it's hurdles. Cinderella had her step sisters and mother, and the time limit of Midnight. Rapunzel had her captor and a tower too tall to jump from and land safely. Ariel had silence and a witch. Mulan had her gender and a whole army.

And me? I've math, doubt, insomnia, trust issues (it's either trusting too little or trusting too much!), and people who come into my life posing as friends, only to hurt me and leave.

Surely that doesn't hold a flame to what every other fairytale princess had to endure. So I've just got to keep my chin up and get over all my hurdles to find my castle along side all the greats.

I sit on this beach, with a pina colada in each hand, digging my feet into the wave-tossed sand

Did you ever think that maybe we ended this all with a bit less ado than it called for?

What were our last words? Sadly, I got curious. I looked them up.
"Twelve years of friendship ends here."
"I realise this."
"Okay. So. Good Bye."
"good bye."

Gosh, they make me laugh, even more because they weren't even said. They were typed, like most bad news nowadays. But what I want to know is, did you mean those words? Did you really want me to have a good bye? Were you as okay with it as I was?

Anger fueled those words, but the truth did as well. And I don't believe there's been many last words that are so understated for such an event in the world, other than possibly something you'd say at a funeral.

But this was a funeral, wasn't it? We dug the grave together, right under our castle of sand stood, once upon a time. We dug deep, put all our effort, then buried the corpse of once was.

And all we had to say to each other?

"Good Bye."

How laughable.

When The Light Just Fizzles Out

To put it simply, today was one of those days where I wanted everything to just stop. Press the pause button and chill. Bury myself under my covers and cry the day away. Anything that didn't include people looking at me, or me needing to do something, to get something done, or needing to see someone about something or other.

One of those days that you don't want to remember tomorrow not because it was absolutely terrible, but because it was just one of those days. The kind that can make you just want to give up without actually doing anything terrible.

Put my arms out, stop the walls from caving in, and by doing that, I'd keep the herd of stampeding elephants at bay. They really just want to hang around in whatever room I'm in, it seems. Thing is, no room I'm in can possibly be big enough for all of them. Even one is pushing it.

I'll Drown Myself in Iced Tea

It's not your fault, is it? It's not anyone's fault, really.

I'm just tired of you all who ignore the outpouring of words coming straight from my heart. I'm tired of you all who ignore it, and then focus on something that doesn't matter. Not really. And nothing is solved. Nothing is assigned a solution. Nothing is fixed.

And yet, you are able to look past that, as if it doesn't exist, and focus on if the curtains are too bright of a pink, or if the cake is too moist. You focus on what color, style and whatever my dress will be for a prom you wish I was going to.

And mostly, I'm kind of jealous you can recede into such a small world, while I have to take a borrowed plastic crown from a happy meal to revert to some younger, childish self.

I'm actually BUSY

I just remembered that I might have a orthodontist appointment tomorrow. Like, might being 99% have.

They're going to be pissed when I miss it. I WOULD call them early tomorrow to confirm, but there's a problem with that- I can't go anyways. Whether it is before or after school, I'm booked up to near completion.

And it's going to be my fault entirely, in their eyes. As usual.

Well, sorry if I need my math credit, and therefore need to meet with the teacher tomorrow to get some things straightened out (like a mid-term exam which, surprisingly, is only going to be a good 3-ish weeks late. Considering I had a month and a half to finish completely at the beginning of this month, that's pretty damn good).

And I have a riding lesson that has been moved to right after co-op (aka, I need to leave EA right at 4 PM, hoping my dad won't be late, and wear my breeches under my jeans. Guess I've only got one choice of jeans, heh.).

Plus, my family is pretty bad at this keeping-track stuff. I'm surprised we kept up the Friendship Bread twice. The third one fizzled when we forgot to feed it for a long time...

So I'm about to be yelled at. By my dental office. It makes me angry.

Oh well.

When it Comes Down to Dust and Dirt

So no matter what, someone hates me.

This is true for everyone, but I tend to be one of those people who wants to be loved, and the people around me are the type of people who want me to be perfect. I'm also a bit of a perfectionist myself. So I tend to try to be perfect in being perfect to gain love.

Except it hasn't worked for me thus far, as key people are hating me for being... well, me, and my dad has reverted back to his previous self. Before the sudden no-fighting thing.

So... As simple and obvious as this may sound, as if I should have thought about it before (which, give me credit, I did think about it, but it's kind of hard for me to admit to myself I'm not perfect, and even if I try my hardest I won't be perfect enough for select people; mostly everyone). Anyways...

I'm sick of trying to be perfect. So I'm just going to be me. Me being whoever I am, which is not perfect. Obviously.

And if the key/select people, as I've called them in this post, don't like it... well, I didn't please them very much when I was bending over backwards for them, so fuck it.

The Power of Words

It's great how any word can be used to send someone to a place of stress and tears. Any word.

Such as "Tuesday" and "Six" paired together, said by a certain person.

Yup. Any word at all.

That Unheard Plea

It'd be amazing what you'd hear if you'd just listen.

Maybe you'd hear the birds singing a new tune, or the wind as it whistles between leaves. Maybe you'd hear a baby crying as it's stolen from it's crib- and you'd be able to save them. Maybe you'd learn facts you never knew about, or hear the whispers of creatures you didn't believe existed.

And maybe, you'd hear the voice of those closest to you, asking you to listen to them. To care. To love them for who they are. Maybe you'd hear what people are actually saying, instead of just a drone of unimportance.

You'd save a lot of people a lot of grief, if you'd just listen.

Wishing Sequels Came Faster.

It's terrible!

I swear I'll not buy a book until the series is finished!

And I bet I break that rule by the end of the week.

And it's terrible!

I don't know if I should go to the mall tomorrow between lunch and riding to get more books to read or not. If I do, then there's a chance (read: no doubt in my mind) my schoolwork will suffer. Or my sleeping will.

Gah. August cannot come sooner. Nor can "Fall 2010," whenever that means (don't people know that fall lasts MONTHS?!)

*cries* Oh the woe doth writing bring upon me. And yet, I must be a masochist, for I do not deny them their power.

The Crowd I Cannot Join

I watch people pass me. They chat to me excitedly- a letter in their mail, paper or electronic, has caused this for them. I am truly happy for them, the few friends I now hold dear, but at the same time, I feel a searing pain in my chest.

Because no matter how much I praise them, it won't do anything for me. For once, making other people happy isn't making me happy. Maybe because they're already happy, and my congratulations is just something extra for them.

And the fact that I won't be going with them. All I can do is sit here and watch them go. I won't be taking a step in their direction for months now.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This isn't what I planned.

But then again, this semester hasn't been what I planned.

The Place Where I Used To Belong

I stopped by Weil's today after I got my grad photos taken. Abir and Jules had me hyped up on some notion that I'd get somewhere by doing this. That it'd be good for me.

Me? I was just wanting to say bye to Helen, who was my mentor and, though everyone was nice there, was the only one who was always on my side. Well. That's a lie. Near the end, she just became indifferent, and Jo wasn't too bad herself... but anyways, I went to say bye because she is leaving in a week to go to Niagara on the Lake. I saw that coming too, believe it or not. Her leaving.

I don't know why I get myself into believing that maybe, maybe I'd be loved still, when I know that it won't happen. Or, in more general terms: Why do I keep making myself believe these lies I see right through? I've got great "instinct," or so I've been told. It's not about reading emotions, or knowing when someone is about to attack or my life is in danger. It's me knowing, somehow, what's going to happen- mainly, when my heart will break a little bit more.

The second Tom was brought up into a conversation as a prospective co-op student alongside me, I had the little itch of a feeling that this was going to be a repeat of SP. But I ignored it. After all, I felt good. I thought I belonged. So I let it go.

And I step in today to see him included, with others, and me trying to enter the bubble that has been made to keep me out.

And I know that in the end, I won't be accepted into the bubble. No. This isn't the end. This is an epilogue that wasn't supposed to be. I saw the ending, back when everyone was saying they'd still be around, they'd still see me.

And I knew that no, I wouldn't. Not the way they meant.

Or, perhaps, in a more melancholic way- exactly the way they meant.

I said I wouldn't call...

I have this image, this vision, this need put into pictures frame-by-broken-frame of me running to you, because I need you. I see your surprise as we've not talked in months. You hug me back anyways, and we cry from sadness and joy, and it is as if none of this happened.

But all this, this broken shattering, it happened. And there's no tragedy driving me to your arms. And doing so would not do any good, because what's broken and shattered is in that condition for a reason. A very good reason. And just because I miss holding you like we did before whenever we cried, it doesn't mean we can fix this.

I know that even if I feel as if I need you now, it's a temporary thing. I know that you won't come sweeping in like you did before, because the time for sweeping in is long past, and everyone good in the room has been murdered and robbed, and the criminals have ran free.

We Can't Forever Dance And Sing

The memories make me smile and laugh out loud, still. It's a shocking thing when one of them pops up, and then I realize that they're over. It's over. And they're never coming back. And I don't know if it's right to still smile at them, still laugh at them, because if it was right, wouldn't they keep going on?

I know what we did wrong, by the way. If you want to know. There wasn't enough air getting to the flames. That's why they never lit properly. That's why we had no "Fire in the Juice box." Maybe a few holes in the side would have helped, but maybe it would have just caught the ground on fire. And anyways, the memory is fine without it being done right.

When I Close My Eyes, All I See is Me and You.

It's a sad thing when you feel ugly when you smile.

I got my new math course package, along with the news that a non-creepy teacher is going to help me with anything I don't understand, first period on day 2s. New hope? Hell yeah. I only have a month and a half to finish all of it, but we're not going to think about that. Plus, I started today and I'm almost done two lessons. That is out of five. There's 4 units (each with 5 lessons), a mid-term exam (this makes me giggle- "mid-term"), and a final exam.

It helps that the practice questions and their corresponding answers don't sound like they were written for university students. Never doing E-Learning again.

I bought the second book in the Storm Glass series by Maria Snyder today. How is it that the sequel, which is thinner than the first book, is double the price? They're both paperback, by the way.

I cleaned my desk off because of my new math unit. This is a good thing. Now I just need inspiration to clean the REST of my room.

I'm working Saturday and Sunday, probably long hours, so that means by the end of this weekend I should have riding for June all paid off, plus some. And I spent the time I was carving melon slices budgeting too... Gosh.

Someone has to switch the STRESS button from being ON to OFF. Problem is, that button has been almost perpetually switched to ON, so the flicker is a bit sticky. By a bit, I mean a LOT. Like, a tornado couldn't even flip that thing. Then again, a tornado would probably just rip it out of the wall, and I don't think I want that to happen.

The Wind That Changes My Path

I don't like to disappoint people. It's why I get stuck in hurtful relationships, doing things I don't like, and spending money I don't have to spend.

So... good bye new jeans that I am close to really needing (since jeans are the only thing I wear, and I've been slowly growing out/destroying each one of them, which number 2 right now but soon 1).

Hello non-disappointment.

Oh well, I'll be able to buy new jeans hopefully in a couple of weeks.

There's Better Friends to be Found in the Main Character's Enemies.

You'd be surprised how many people think one spends too much time on a subject that took up twelve years of their life. That influenced 99% of decisions made during that time span. That held them together and tore them apart.

Yup. You'd be surprised how many people. Seems like nearly everyone.

We Were Both Young When I First Saw You...

You know what I think, this late at night? It's thoughts I don't want to think. Mainly about my past, about my foggy future, and whether I did "right" things, whatever right is.

It might be naive of me. Perhaps I'm wrong. But I don't think she ever thought that the words she said, those final words, would really be the final words.

I don't think she really knew the power of those words, the power of the past. The power of my pain.

I know he didn't. It took him till a couple of weeks ago to figure it out, and I still don't believe he gets it.

I'm fully expecting graduation to come with some kind of "Can we fix this," or "I don't want it to end like this."

Thing is, it ended. If you wanted to fix things, you should have tried in the weeks that followed the world exploding, shattering into a million pieces.

And yet, I still kind of hope that something like that cheesy "Let's end on a good note!" event happens. And the reasons, the true reasons, are mine only to keep.

But I'm not getting my hopes up.

But I ask again, to anyone who reads this, to anyone who's ever said something they didn't want to say, or did, and knew/thought that it wouldn't change a thing-

What would you do, what would you say, if you had no guarantee that everyone would come back to you? If any word out of your mouth could be the final one?

For me, it was when I knew the full extent of my words that I finally told the truth.And yet, it wasn't enough to tell the whole story.

People still think it all ended because of a stupid party. A silly thing. A temper tantrum. A little bit of alcohol, perhaps.

When it was so, so much more.